I try to be practical. I’m not one for collecting (except maybe horses?) or keeping things just for show. A wood cook stove sitting around just looking pretty to me is… a waste of space. I want it hooked up, fired up, and baking! Yesterday, we had the opportunity to revive the life of an old stove, and in turn, bring the Little Cabin by the Big River to life.
There’s something about a wood stove that warms you to your bones better than anything. It’s the real deal. Fire.
Growing up, we had a fire place. It was big and open and put out heat if you pretty much sat inside it. But ten feet away and you’d be chilled again. Kind of like a camp fire on a chilly night, you know? But wood stoves are so much more efficient. Having lived with woodstoves for my primary heat source for the past two decades, I’d say nothing warms you deep inside, and warms up your cabin, quite like it.
Add to the wonderful warmth, these old cook stoves work. Those of you who have used them know – they take a little getting used you, but before long, you feel lucky to be standing there frying the bacon while being so comfortable and warm, with no more effort than that of feeding a few sticks of wood every once in a while. So simple. So efficient. So warm!
Anyway, we got the old stove in through the door of the Little Cabin. Had to turn the stove on its side to slide it through, but didn’t even have to take the door off the hinges. The boys climbed up onto the old roof (in need of new roofing, no doubt on the list as finances allow), opened up the hole in the roof and got the chimney hooked up through there.
Although it was a blustery day and the smoke blended with the grey of the sky and moved so quickly in the spring wind, you can just see the smoke wafting from the stove pipe. I wanted to see that since we moved the Little Cabin down there. Something about seeing the little drift of smoke rising from the chimney symbolized life inside the cabin.
And indeed, we were warm inside. Alan quickly found his place by the stove.
We sat there listening to the “snap, crackle, pop” of the wood, and the roar of the Big River so close by, and the rain began to fall and everything felt very right. No doubt, it was home, if only for the few moments we remained and rested there.