I was born in July. I like to be warm. I like blankets and thick socks. Our current home in town has central heat and a/c. Our first winter here, the thermostat seemed really luxurious--not having to cut, haul, split, stack and carry wood inside--except when we burned wood for heat we also spent time together. It took cooperation. It also kept us close together. Literally. The wood stove was the warmest place in our home so everyone (dogs and cats included) wanted to be near. If we got too hot we moved away. Before a shower I'd hang my clothes near the stove to warm them so after the shower I had toasty clothing with no additional energy cost. Warm towels, radiant hair drying, clothes racks for drying laundry, a pot of water to humidify. With central heat, just when I grab a blanket, the furnace kicks on, I get too hot, ditch the blanket, then it kicks off and I'm chilly again. Too cold. Too hot. I have serious "Goldilocks" syndrome that would be instantly cured by returning to a constant radiant heat source.
I recently came across the idea that a wood stove warms you while you're cutting, loading, splitting, stacking, and carrying, not just burning. I look forward to next winter when wood will warm us.
"Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water."
Zen Proverb
Also missing from central heat is the gentle source of flickering firelight. Long winter nights leave me yearning not only for warmth, but light. My friends and I have a tradition of celebrating the Winter Solstice, that hopeful return of the light. We exchange homemade or re-gifted gifts, eat, drink, reflect and plan. My husband and I anticipate the Solstice by limiting the use of electric lighting in our house the week prior and instead using oil lamps and candles. Being extremely busy through November and December, I don't have the motivation to do much seasonal decorating, but I do keep an upside-down tomato cage adorned with chicken-wire and Christmas lights complete with a star on top. This year, we've decided to keep the tree until the Spring Equinox, a sure sign that something is missing from our home.
Perhaps the building plans for our off-grid, forever home won't even include overhead electric lighting. Perhaps we'll be able to heat water and a radiant floor with our wood stove. Maybe our dogs and future children will rest comfortably on an earthen bench warmed by a rocket-mass heater. Whatever the case, it will be just right.
