But then, it snowed. Really snowed. FOUR inches.
Needless to say, it was extremely cold that night, but I didn't really mind, although Graeme did. The snow was a beautiful novelty, and felt like an unexpected gift - I got to be present on my land for the first real snow of the season. I drank hot tea, lit a candle, and sat by the woodstove and reveled.
However, the next morning, beautiful as it was outside, something in me just sort of snapped. The digging party was supposed to be that day, but there was snow everywhere, and even though it was rapidly melting, it was still uncomfortably cold, and the fire, once I finally got it built, kept petering out, since I didn't have enough smaller pieces to feed it with. I was using my mattock to attempt to split wood, which didn't work so well; a friend was supposed to bring out an ax to the party, but that was hours of freezing toes away.
I finally decided to cancel the digging party, because I knew that once the snow melted the roads were going to be terrible, and also, all I wanted to do was go into town and get warm. My fingers and toes hadn't thawed all morning.
At that point, I also decided I was not going to stay another night in the bus.
So we packed up the Blazer with stuff like the plastic set of drawers I'd been using a dresser and the ice chest that had been sitting in the same spot in the kitchen for months, left a ton of food for the cats, and vacated. It felt really weird, but was also a relief.
We stayed at Jeremy's last night (that's my friend who helped me move the bus to the land way back when), and this afternoon we'll go back out to feed the cats and pack up more stuff. We'll take down the tent that's been up since June, and I imagine it will be strange to see that spot empty. I'm also going to take out everything that's stored under the sleeping benches in the back of the bus and then load up that space with earthbags. Then, we'll use the tarp that has been covering them outside to drape over the top of the bus to keep snow and rain from leaking in through the two busted skylights over the kitchen and "living room."
And once we're done with all that, we'll come in to town for the night again, because it's supposed to go down to 28 degrees. Call me a wuss, but I just don't feel like dealing with that kind of cold in an uninsulated bus anymore.
Have been enjoying your trek...What is that at the joint between the stove and stove pipe? A doily? Surely not. Glad you are going somewhere easier for the winter.
ReplyDeleteYou are not a wuss. Snow would send me packing as well if I didn't have a well-insulated place to call home. Stay warm!
ReplyDeleteHi Judith, thanks for trekking along! No, not a doily - a piece of tin foil because of a slightly imperfect fit between the pipe and stove.
ReplyDeleteDenese - Thanks for the support. I am now in a house with heat and very grateful for it.