The wood burning stove heats most of the house up in the cool winter months. I don’t start the fire until the kids are home from school. It’s pretty cold in here without them, which is nothing new… but I bundle up with blankets, hot tea, and these fuzzy socks…
I get these little moments in the day, after washing the kitchen floor and hanging the clothes in the laundry room, where the ants seem to keep finding a new way in from the cold. I guess it’s warmer in here than I think.
Soon I will go outside, and chop the firewood into little pieces. Put on my plaid jacket, white toque, insulted gloves, and these winter boots, that always seem to find that patch of ice on the deck just under the snow.
I’ve learnt it’s so much easier to chop wood along the growth rings, to let the axe slide down with little resistance, taking each year apart after another.
It’s lightly snowing… I love watching how gently snow can touch the ground.