If you are wondering why the "Man of the House" is not the keeper of the fire, it's (a) because he's not home all day like me, and (b) he's not all obsessed with fire like I am. When I was a child, I was so fascinated with fire (in the fireplace, mainly; I was NOT a junior arsonist!) that my mother regularly called me a pyromaniac. I think she was joking. My husband now calls me "Pretty Pyro", which I find strangely complimentary.
I find fire-building to be quite an art, and I like to get my logs, flames and embers just so. However, I clearly still have a few things to learn about the wood-burning portion of our furnace, as it was 26C in the house the other night (about 80F, my American friends! Dephal, I think I mistakenly told you it was hotter.) The cats LOVE IT.
I am also getting better at splitting kindling. I have a nice new sharp hatchet, safety glasses and work gloves in the basement. Now when I split a log, kindling doesn't ricochet off the washing machine. Pictures will come eventually, no doubt.
We got hammered on Monday with almost a foot of snow. It's great fun, particularly since I don't have to commute. The dogs just adore the snow. Tristan in particularly loves to roll on his back in it, and they both like digging for buried treasures (like wild turkey poo!)
Yesterday I walked through virgin snow to the back of the woodlot with the dogs. Now THAT is a workout. I felt like I was on a Stairmaster! Time to get some snowshoes. It was worth it, though. The woodlot was beautiful, with the trees heavy with white stuff, and just a set of deer tracks in the snowy path before me.
Here are some pics from earlier this week.
Sophie the Intrepid Snow Dog
Two dogs heading for the back 40.
The beautiful tundra dog surveys her domain.
The drainage "ditch" that runs through our property to the river at the back. It's quite pretty and attracts all kinds of water birds and animals.
Excavating wild turkey poop, no doubt.
Maybe she smells a muskat!
Just having fun! The snow drifted a lot, so the depth varies depending on where you are.
Ye olde snowy farme. It was friggin' cold that day.