January was a month to try men’s (and women’s) souls. After a period of milder winters, this last one has certainly been one for the records. We have 20” of snow and below zero temperatures! Because of my husband’s forethought to put in a recirculating pump to keep the water in the crawl spaces from freezing, I haven’t had any frozen pipes. Until today. After two consecutive nights when the temperature went down to 18 below even the circulating pump couldn’t handle the cold! My son-in-law valiantly tried a hair dryer on the offending pipes with no luck. At least I have heat!
I live in a 150 year old house. It was built in 1876, 100 years after the Declaration of Independence was signed. As I listen to my furnace struggling to cope with these frigid temperatures, I wonder what it was like to live here when the house was warmed only by fireplaces and a wood stove in the kitchen. There are three chimneys, each with a double flue. Two provided both a downstairs fireplace and one for a bedroom upstairs. The last one serviced the wood stove and the third bedroom. I’m fairly sure they had to carry water, too. There is an old well whose cap has been cemented in as part of the patio.
It takes three loads of firewood to keep a fire going for the evening, three more if I want to enjoy it in the afternoon, as well. I can carry four logs, five if they aren’t too heavy or too big. I try to keep a pile of dry wood inside, to start the fire. The wood pile now is deep in snow. But it is so cold the logs aren’t really wet, just covered in fluffy white stuff. They sizzle and hiss as the fire grows hotter. The cats congregate, for once sharing the hearth rug instead of quibbling over it. There is something so satisfying about a wood fire. The crackle of flames and the smell of wood smoke, makes me feel a part of the history of this house, connected to all those who have lived here before me.
We moved in, when Elizabeth was six weeks old. I remember rocking her on Christmas Eve that first year. I felt a part of something bigger, sure that other mothers rocked babies in the night in that very bedroom. I was actually one of those babies, as were my brother and sister. Eventually owning the house I grew up in, gave me a wonderful opportunity to raise my children with all the beautiful traditions my parents established. Living in the country has more advantages than drawbacks. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
So, about the water? Tomorrow I will call a plumber and just hope that maybe the lines will thaw overnight. Stranger things have happened!
fairysockmother 