The week approaching Winter Solstice has been clear and cold. Today, it is minus 15 degrees F. Hoar frost (from ice fog) coats the bottom thirty feet of forest that spikes through 6.5 ft of sugary snow. The spruce boughs droop white. I see no animal tracks at all. Everyone and everything is hunkered down on these short days of blue light at 9 am and sunset at 3 pm.
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| Hoar frost coats the branches |
Outdoors, we do our jobs as quickly as thick mittens and bulky parkas allow. When I light the fire for the hot tub, (yes, we bathe outside at these temperatures), I notice an inversion layer of cold air that presses the smoke to flow horizontally out of the chimney. To the chickens, I carry warm water and snacks of meat fat or seedy berry pulp. I kick a hole in a frozen layer of the chicken water, pouring warm water in the allegedly heated bowl. Their coop is insulated, with a thick carpet of straw, but their body heat and a light bulb are not enough to keep their eggs from freezing, which I boil and feed back to them.
Down to about zero, we walk on the frozen lake, playing fetch with the dog, who skitters and slides on icy patches. Below that temperature, a stroll or a brisk walk is less appealing to all of us. Buddy lifts alternate back legs off the cold snow, but I have not yet succeeded in getting him to accept four fabric and Velcro booties.
Our machines suffer, too. The solar batteries are nowhere near as efficient in winter as summer, so we awaken to a loss of power every morning (if there is no wind for the wind turbine). In the cold and dark, Bryan trudges uphill to the power shed, dragging a sled with the ever-reliable Honda generator that he warmed in the cabin overnight. Plugged in for about four hours (one gallon of gas), we eke out another 20 hours of electricity.
Inside the 750 sq ft cabin, the wood stove burns 30-45 logs per day, 24/7. The 23 gallon aluminum hot water tank above the stove radiates some heat into the room, but we still need to wear several layers of clothes inside. The double layered windows need additional insulation, so we hang blankets over rebar, tucking them behind the drapes during the day. However, the chilliest corners of the log cabin measure 29 degrees today. Olive oil has congealed on a shelf. The warmest center of the cabin, though, is a pleasant 60 - 63.
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| Summer view of our woodstove |
The drain under the kitchen sink freezes, so every morning, we plug in an electric line that dangles inside the pipe to warm it. On exceptionally cold days, when the drain line requires more power than we want to allocate, I wash dishes in a bucket and dump the gray water outside. Outside, the well pump can freeze, too. On those days, we bring in buckets of snow to melt for wash water.
Challenging though this weather can be, it does offer compensatory benefits.
We save up indoor projects and pleasures for this time of year. This morning I cuddled in bed with an Agatha Christie novel. Previously, I finished two online courses on dog training and another on making herbal remedies. Herbal leaves, berries, and flowers that I harvested and dried during the summer are turned into salves, balms, and tinctures now. The chocolate brandy made in prior summers my husband likes to sip, warm, on cold winter evenings. I favor mint tea with rosehips.
Some people may get cabin fever. I figure it is my job to make sure that I don’t.
