Company's Coming

Last Saturday morning I got up around 6:00 am, but not because I wanted to. It was still dark and cold (around 10 below) but my wife, Rhonda, was having some neighbor ladies (and a few others) over for coffee, and she had work for me to do. Rhonda doesn’t even drink coffee. Since the first group was scheduled for 7:00, my assigned task was to start a fire in the wood stove so the kitchen would be comfortable and Rhonda could make breakfast on it.

Even though we added some insulation and replaced some windows, the kitchen remains colder than the rest of the house. Maybe it’s because when the kitchen was built they didn’t dig out a basement, above it there is no second floor, it’s exposed to the Northwest, and there are too many windows. But I’m just guessing.

For most of its one-hundred and twenty years this house has had a wood-fired cook stove to prepare meals and provide heat. When we bought the place the old stove in the kitchen didn’t look like it could contain a fire within its walls any more, so we replaced it with a new model (we still have the old one stored in the coop).

Even with a new stove, there is more to it than just striking a match. If everything goes right I can get the stove lit and ready in about 15-20 minutes, but that morning I was a little sleepy and just a bit crabby so it took longer. First, I had to make myself some coffee; the ladies would have to get their own.

The stove’s ash drawer was in need of emptying, for I planned on keeping the stove going throughout the chilly day. I opened the grate and guided yesterday’s remains into the drawer below to top it off. Then I carried the ashes to the garden and cast them to the wind.

Back in the house I hurried to the garage for kindling and newspaper – time was running short and soon I would have to field questions from curious onlookers. A quiet, still stove and a snappy winter night makes for a cold chimney. If the chimney is warm it will draw the smoke up and out, but if it is cold the smoke will take a seat in the kitchen and nobody likes that.

For years I fought with the smoke trying to persuade it to go up the chimney, but too often I was opening windows and running for fans. Until one day Rhonda had an idea (she hates the smell of smoke in the house even though I tell her to pretend she is camping). Through the smoke she handed me an old hair dryer and suggested I use it to blow warm air into the chimney prior to lighting the stove. It worked so well that sometimes I will add a curling iron to give the smoke a subtle swirl as it leaves the chimney. Rhonda declined my offer to give the hair dryer back.

Even though the hair dryer adds five minutes to my task, it saves time and trouble later on. With some newspapers rolled up and some kindling on hand, I am almost ready to go.  I find it to be therapeutic to burn bad news. First, I light a small piece of paper to test the draw of the chimney.  When that is done and the results are promising, I lay newspaper and kindling in the firebox and light a second match.

Just then the ladies hit the room, and I had to dance around them for the next few critical minutes. With the kindling burning, I knew I didn’t have much time to add larger pieces of wood with more staying power.  With the stove warming, I turned the responsibility of feeding the fire over to Rhonda and retreated upstairs.

Having ladies over for coffee sure is a lot of work. I remember my mother used to have ladies over for coffee, but I never remember that Dad had any chores to do. Mom even drank coffee. Things have sure changed.