You know it’s been a long winter when your spouse comes home, announces he has just bought several years worth of firewood at once and all you can think is he should have bought more.
At a time of year when it makes more sense to be visiting plant nurseries, saving up for a vacation or buying sunscreen, all Darcy and I can think about is keeping the home fires burning for the rest of our lives.
I have always regretted not being able to speak at least one other language. And then I realized I do. I not only speak English, I am fluent in wood stove.
There’s a difference between an object that makes a noise and actually communicating. A lot of objects in our home make noise. When the power goes out people often comment on how quiet their house is.
It’s not just that there is no TV or music but it’s that we don’t realize all the whirrs, burps and farts our appliances make until the cord is cut.
A wood stove is different. Not only is it independent of electricity, it actually talks. Sure, its language is fairly primitive, but it communicates just the same.
I can tell what it needs from anywhere in the house just by listening to it.
The stove gives out a constant ticking talk as the stove pipe and cast iron heats up. A lively soft chatter means things are glowing along splendidly. If it’s really chirruping it’s time to close the damper.
A roar like a jet engine taking to the skies means you might have a chimney fire. Fortunately my stove hasn’t spoken those words; at least not yet.
A slowing silence means it’s getting hungry and needs another few chunks of wood.
When there’s no sound at all that’s very bad news. Though not near as bad as the jet engine roar.
A silence means that your stove has gone out and will need to be resuscitated with a crumpled ball of newspaper and few sticks of kindling.
It’s not unlike communicating with a toddler while you’re in another room. If you can hear a happy chatter and the clatter of toys you know things are OK. When the toddler is quiet you know he’s either dropping Lego down the toilet or painting the walls with lipstick. Either way, unless its nap time silence is rarely a good thing.
OK. It’s not exactly a meaningful discussion but it is still communication. And since I work from home and our winters are so long, it occurs to me that I communicate more with our stove than I do with anyone or anything else.
Is that worrisome? I think it might be.
Yesterday as I was feeding the stove I started thinking how each type of wood speaks its own dialect.
They’re all pretty fiery but spruce is downright explosive. You never know what is going to set it off.
One minute it’s softly ticking away and the next kah bam! It goes off like a bomb launching both the dog and myself into the air. If the stove is like a toddler, then spruce is like a teenager.
Poplar speaks softly but packs a lot of ash. It’s kind of like a quiet but surly house guest that waltzes out the door leaving you with a big mess.
If it wasn’t for the fact we have 60 acres of poplar and its free we would never invite it inside.
This far north poplar, pine and birch are pretty much our only options. Maybe one day I’ll have the opportunity to learn what maple, cedar, oak, fir and maybe even apple have to say. But for now pine and birch speak my favourite language and that’s what Darcy just spent most of our summer vacation fund on.
Ah well, a small price to pay for six to seven months of soft chatter, clean warmth and companionship.
I just read this over and I am a bit concerned that I have gone mad. I sound cabin fevered to the core. Six solid months of snow and cold has turned my mind to mush. They say if you think you’re crazy then you’re probably not, but who knows?
If you come over for coffee and I pour a cup for the stove and include it in the conversation I guess that would be a sign. Or if spring ever gets its grassy butt in gear and makes its return and you find me wandering around a sweltering house still communicating with my stove that would be another.
Shannon McKinnon is a Canadian humour columnist. You can read past columns by visiting www.shannonmckinnon.com.
