The heat-activated fan atop the woodstove was spinning happily Monday morning, a sign that this mass of cast iron had held some warmth through the night. I put my hand near the surface — yup, still puttin’ off a little heat.
I expected the fire to be out, though, and it was. Just ashes and a few embers. Maybe enough to ignite tinder if I’d wanted to get the stove going again.
I didn’t. Outside temp was 52°F, inside 66°F, and both human and Heeler were comfortable. We’re acclimating to the season, I think.
Back when I heated my 150-year-old home with wood in the mid-1980s, I had oil-fired heat as backup. (It’s a New England thing.) I set the thermostat to tell the burner to kick on when the indoor temperature dropped to 55°F, and the boiler pushed hot water into several baseboard radiators.
There’s no such central system in this cabin, of course. When overnight (or even daytime) temps get bitter-cold, I’ll position a couple of space heaters near vulnerable plumbing runs. Otherwise, it’ll come down to my woodpile, my stove and me.
I’m looking forward to that, believe it or not.
After almost three full days of rain, Monday was forecast to be dry. Rain is expected to return, they say, today and Wednesday. That, like wind, factors into gauging when I need to light the woodstove.
Rain cools the cabin (evaporation, conduction). So does wind (convection). Both tend to scrub-off heat I try to build. The reason it was comfortable indoors yesterday morning was that we had neither.
One of the best things about the last nine months (and especially the last six in the cabin) is having a home that’s orderly, tidy and clean. That’s the way I like it, and so that’s the way it is.
It takes almost no time to make it perfect.
Monday’s pre-dawn chores included cleaning sinks, vacuuming floors and furniture, and laundering my bedding and Smudge’s blankets. And it was all done before 7:30am.
Later, I took advantage of the woodstove being idle to shovel ashes out of the firebox. It wasn’t yet cold, but it was cool enough for me to do the work without extreme caution or heavy gloves.
I did have some coals to deal with.
What I removed went into my vintage ash bucket, which rested safely on the fireproof hearth.
A few days’ burning had generated enough ash to fill the bucket about halfway. I set it outside on the gravel driveway to cool. If it had been windy, the hot ashes would’ve gone straight into a covered steel (tr)ash can.
Having glass in the door of a woodstove is great for ambience, but eventually (sometimes quickly) the pane gets covered in soot and grime. Cleaning the glass usually is part of my ash-shoveling routine.
Here’s yesterday’s “before” picture:
Not terrible, but as long I was there, I may as well put it right.
Tools and supplies required: two paper towels, one damp and the other dry. That’s it — no oven cleaner, no overpriced spritz formulated for woodstove glass.
I dabbed the damp paper towel into ashes on the floor of the firebox and applied the resulting paste to the interior of the pane, using an overlapping circular motion.
Stubborn buildup sometimes needs a little extra pressure to come up, but really, it doesn’t take much.
I went over the surface a couple of times, then used the dry paper towel to wipe it off. And after less than two minutes’ work, it looked like this:
Easy. Most chores are, in fact, ridiculously easy. They become difficult only when we put them off.
Here endeth the lesson.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable