Rhena Writes

Tag: #winter

  • Keeping the home fires burning

    The deal around this house is that if the temperatures go into the fifties or above, we don’t have a fire in the wood stove. Sadly, today is one such day. I’m still sitting next to the stove even though it’s little more than an empty metal box right now because it’s still a comfy spot, just not quite as cozy as it is when there’s a hot glow emanated from the box.

    The fire is one of the ways that I get myself through the winter, especially in these fewer and fewer minutes of sunlight each day. I know. In this day and age, what’s the problem? We have plenty of indoor electric lighting and, yes, I do turn on many lights during the dark evenings, but somehow the glow of the fire just heals me right up. It sparks something primal and constant in me. It serves as a reminder that my ancestors made it through winters with little more than such a fire.

    The fire is also deeply satisfying because it’s something that I have to build and tend to: splitting kindling, carrying in wood from the stacks outside, making the fire starters. I couldn’t explain how to take care of the fire to someone else, it’s just becoming the second nature that arrives only with much attention and experimentation. Knowing what piece of wood needs to go on next, whether the damper needs to be opened or the embers merely stirred up. Yes, the smoke alarm went off as recently as the last week when I wasn’t being attentive enough but even those moments are becoming fewer and further between. There’s even work for the kids: stacking wood, unloading it, checking the moisture levels. And it’s particularly satisfying when one of them curls up for a nap on the nearby couch, stands in front of the box to warm his hands, or just stares into the flames. Yes, much of the time, they’d still choose looking at a screen (they are human children, after all) but I know that at least having the option of resting their eyes on the fire through the winter months kindles something in their imaginations. I’m guess anyway. And I’m projecting. I know that glow of the fire does something that no screen can do.

    Last week, we heard a strange noise which inspired me to call the company that installed and maintains our wood stove. I call it a company, but it’s a guy and a few employees. Anyway, it turns out that the owner has the same stove model that we have. So on the phone, he was leading me through some options of what the noise might have been and then told me how to remove a part of our pipe in order to take some pictures. Once I sent him the pictures, he said we could go ahead and start having fires again as everything was in working order.

    But two things happened in the course of that morning. The first was that I was able to get the pictures he needed. It feels quite good to be able to take care of things around my own house. The other thing that felt nice was just to have a chat with someone knowledgeable about these sorts of things. We swapped a few stories about our wood stoves and it was just, well, pleasant.

    I know that maybe that doesn’t sound like much, but I’m a stay at home mom. Many of my days, most of my social interaction is with my husband and kids. And while I do actually love my alone time and wouldn’t have it other way, that’s not to say that I don’t enjoy the occasional chat especially one that is about something else I enjoy. Namely: owning, using, and learning about this wood stove.

    I feel competent (in fire building, in home owning, in creating a homey atmosphere for my kids). I feel connected (to both ancestors and other people who are excited about things like wood stoves). I feel cozy and even creative. I get to use my body to build fires but I also use my brain.

    This post is not some sort of an advertisement for wood stoves (even the high efficiency ones like ours). What I’m trying to do here is to examine the things that bring me joy, to break them apart into their component parts so that I might more clearly feel that joy not just when I’m sitting in front of my wood stove. But in every moment. In every breath.

  • Surviving extremes with koselig, sabai, and balance.

    Daily writing prompt
    How do you feel about cold weather?
    View all responses

    I love cold weather. No. That’s not right. I love the feeling of being warm and cozy, which is only possible with cold weather.

    When I was teaching English in Thailand, I’d try to explain what it was like where I’d been living in the United States. I had recently graduated from the University of Wisconsin at Madison which is, well, cold. I studied Thai language for a semester or two and for some reason language classes are often first thing in the morning. I tried to describe trudging up Bascom Hill in the snow and ice to make it to Thai class on time. I wore heavy boots and multiple layers, a scarf wrapped up all the way around my face so that only my eyes were visible. I’d describe to my students how my breath would condense on my eyelashes and scarf and then freeze. Entering the warmth of the language building, it would all instantly melt, leaving my face, scarf, and hat slightly damp.

    Sometimes, as I was describing this to them, a slight breeze might cut through the tropical heat of the open air classrooms. Sabai. Sabai. A study in contrasts.

    Here are the two languages I’ve felt pulled to learn more about recently: Thai and Norwegian. Perhaps my ancestors are trying to tell me something. Maybe they’re warring it out, both trying to make claim space on my tongue, in my brain. It doesn’t bother me. There’s room for both and all.

    For a while, I lived in Minnesota, which has an outsized Norwegian influence. It makes sense, the climates are somewhat similar. As much as I love both places, it’s mostly because of the summers if I’m honest. Like I said, I enjoy the feeling of “koselig” in cold weather. And I like to knit. I enjoy a steady fire, warm drinks. Candlelight. But it’s also easy to forget that what comes with the cold and koselig is the dark. There are times in both places — Minnesota and Norway — where there’s almost no sunlight for long stretches at a time. It’s hard. Really, really hard.

    But so is the heat of Thailand, sometimes. And the flooding.

    So I guess it makes sense that I live at a latitude somewhere between those two extremes now — not too far from the latitude where I was born. And perhaps pleasing to the ancestors on both sides.

    ***************

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  • Final Fire

    I spent a portion of last weekend high off of a few sunny, warm days. I directed this new energy towards organizing a little around the house and setting goals for exercising and writing on my computer in my office closet on Monday. A classic case of early spring energy. But when Monday rolled around, the forecast indicated that it wasn’t going to get out of the forties. Fifty and above is our top end cut off for fires in our wood stove. So, change of plans. Or should I? Could I enjoy a fire and also make good on all my ambitions? Could I just write on my ipad in front of the computer? Could I do a work-out in front of the stove? I could… but I didn’t want to. The glow of the screen is the very antithesis of the one emitted from a fire. I knew I couldn’t truly cultivate hygge with an iPad and exercise sweat. 

    I threw aside my plans for a “productive” day, ignored the obnoxious voice in my head saying that I was being lazy, built a tower of logs and kindling and ignited one of our homemade starters. I tucked myself into the couch for a day of alternately reading and staring into the flames. It was a lovely, luxurious, morning. 

    It was an unusually cold winter here in Maryland. One furnace went out during a cold snap so we’ve been using and relying on the wood stove a lot. We have two furnaces, so it wasn’t as dire it might seem at first glance. Using a wood stove for a heat source is this lovely balance of yin and yang energy. Cleaning the stove, chopping kindling, carrying the wood inside, and building the fire are all yang. The sitting back, admiring the fire, and resting in its warmth? That’s yin. 

    One of the cold stretches was right when I was recovering from my mastectomy. The snow fall meant the kids were home from school. Having them around helped me heal faster. (My surgeon said I didn’t look like someone who had just had surgery at my follow up.) And I’m confident that the snow alleviated some of the guilt I might have felt over taking time to rest and recover. 

    And so I’m grateful that mother nature sent us one last coldish day to enjoy a fire. But as the morning turned into afternoon, it grew warmer than I’d expected and I let the fire die out. My husband mentioned that it’s always nice to have a fire once it’s dark outside. (We’d lost electricity for about an hour on Saturday evening in the middle of dinner and we were all surprised at how much light the wood stove provided once we’d lit it in the complete darkness.) So I attempted to get it started again once the sun had set. The fire was finicky by which I mean that it smoked to the point that I had to open the sliding glass door. Eventually, though, we got to enjoy another nice flame. But it somehow seemed perfect that our last fire would be so imperfect, so troublesome in a way. It was as if mother nature was reminding me that there’s a time and season for everything, lest in my longing for beautiful fires in our woodstove, I miss her other gifts and blessings. 

    My six-year-old son was home sick a few days this week. He asked to go for a walk. We searched for signs of spring and found snow drops, crocuses, robins, and onion grass. The next day he observed that the snow drops looked different. They’d opened overnight. He held up his hand, letting three fingers droop to illustrate how they’d changed. As much as I love the fires, I also love to see what’s there when the smoke clears. 

    This is not paid advertisement, but if you are looking for a wood stove, this one is great and it’s one of the few that’s EPA approved to burn with lower particulate emissions.

    Also, not a paid ad, but if you are looking for fireplace and wood stove installers and maintenance in the DMV, I cannot say enough about Traditions Chimney Sweeps.

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