Ice and Fire

Today was colder than yesterday -- dropped below the "crisp" temperatures, into "downright uncomfortable" temperatures, even though it was again sunny. (By midwestern standards formed over the last two weeks, it was balmy -- in the 20's F.)
The back garden, showing an edge of the new deck, and the frozen expanse down to the pond and the wetlands beyond.  We had the usual array of birds at the feeders: sparrows and chickadees, of course, but also blue jays and titmouses (titmice?). In the lower photo, I serendipitously caught a sparrow flying in, and if you look closely, you'll see a red-headed flicker on the bird feeder, taking suet.)  Today we didn't get the muster of crows we've had the last couple of days.

Dog of and I attempted to walk into town -- only a mile away -- on the flimsy excuse that I would buy milk or a coffee. We didn't make it. Over half way there, just as you pass the Whipple House, the road curves, turning -- in that old-fashioned New England way -- from a city street into a state highway in the space of a few meters.  Cars zoomed past in a steady flow. The shoulders of the roads (there are few sidewalks), normally narrow gravel paths, are piled three feet high with crusty, greasy, salt-encrusted snow, studded with dark ice chunks like broken beer bottles in a garbage bag. I could trudge on top of it in my snow boots, but arthritic old Dog of absolutely refused.  She kept pulling into the traffic lane, regardless of the speeding SUVs (she's quite deaf, so has no fear).

Nervous for her safety, and tired of pulling a reluctant dog through the cold, we returned home. I can't tell about Dog of, but I have been bone-cold chilled ever since, despite layers of thermal underwear, wool, and fleece.

Heartbreak is heated by a central oil-burning furnace, but I think that's mostly backup these days. The main source of heat is a fantastic pellet stove. Cranky and Bride have had one for a few years, but this is a new one, thermostatically controlled. (I think I mentioned in an earlier post.) You get the cozy sense of a fire -- I mean, there actually is a fire -- but you don't have to muck about with logs and embers, and making sure it has enough air, or if the flue is open. Instead, it operates on wood pellets, poured in through a door in the top (so, sure, every couple of hours you do have to feed it, like logs, but you just pour a scoop or three in and you're done).

A fan blows hot air out into the room through the rectangular openings along the top of the stove. The hinges along the front edge open the grate, but you can't get at the fire -- there's a  thick piece of glass behind it. (The front does open -- but it is the whole front, not what you'd expect from the photo -- for cleaning once a week. There is ash, but it is very fine, and much less than you get from burning wood.)

The pellets also offer an additional decorating opportunity -- sitting in an old copper feed bucket alongside the fire.

The back wall of the main area of the stove is decorated with a set of vertical ridges, crowned with a diamond that frames what I think is meant to be a stylized flame.  Under the diamond is a gaping hole -- the chute down which the pellets spill, feeding the fire below.

I have set up my laptop on a table a few feet away (as I showed in an earlier post). Sitting there, looking over at the stove, the design on the back appears to me like an ash-covered gargoyle or primitive fire dæmon, sucking in the flames and shooting out heat. It's quite comforting, actually.