Fall into Winter: Journal Entry No. 1

Mt. Katherine from Dry Creek 9.25.17

7:45.  The last of the light.  The evenings have been silent for a little over a week now.  Cold has cut off the song of the cicada, the song of the cricket.  Now there is only stillness except when Oreo, our blue-heeler, barks.

A fire glows in the fireplace and is reflected onto the coming of the night through the front window.  Today edged above 60 degrees, but last night we had our first frost.  Most of the garden survived though.

I came home, put a pizza in the oven that Everest had preheated, and then put some dishes in the sink and headed outside. 

I caged the apple tree we planted in the spring.  The deer have returned for winter, and last week they stripped off its leaves.  Luckily, they haven't chewed off the branches yet.  I also caged the new cherry tree.  Then I came in, ate some pizza and watched an episode of Escape to the Country, a British show that I like.

After that, I did up the dishes and returned outside.  I transplanted an aspen that was in a pot sitting on the front walk.  I am slowly planting a forest west of the house as a sun and wind block.   The ground was still plenty moist from a heavy rain that turned to snow in the early hours of the morning Sunday.

Then I brought in firewood and lit a fire.

Things are generally simple here.  Lots to do.  Lots of routine.  I'm ready for that at this stage of my life.  I don't even mind dishes.

I love being outside, even if it's just to get firewood.  I love the smell of wet wood, of chimney smoke.  I love little noises--a distant dog barking.  In the morning, there is the yelp of coyotes and our rooster crowing.

I am glad the heat is gone.  Summers are getting far too long.  I don't see how anyone can deny climate change anymore.

Although we could have fires all winter, we only have them in the fall (before we switch over to the furnace), at Christmas time, and in the spring (after we have stop using the furnace).

There is no heat like fireplace heat.  It sinks in deep, warms you down to your bones.  But sending smoke up the chimney constantly is hard to justify anymore.