Posted by Suzanne McMinn @ 12:05 am | Permalink
Daily Farmhouse Journal
It started snowing Tuesday night and didn’t quit. Ever wonder what it’s like to live in a one-hundred-year-old farmhouse in the winter? Come on in.
Outside, it’s gorgeous, a winter wonderland, crisp and cold. Inside…it’s crisp and cold.
Children abandon icy bedrooms to sleep by the fire. It’s a snow day. No reason to get up before noon. Might as well keep snoozing in front of the gas fire. It’s the only warm place in the house. Dogs like the fire, too.
The cellar porch door doesn’t shut unless you shove something against it, like an overflowing laundry basket. Forget about doing laundry. The hot water pipe is frozen and the washer is frozen, too. The outside door doesn’t shut very well even with a basket jammed against it. None of the doors in the house shut right and we have no insulation or double-paned windows. One-hundred-year-old farmhouses aren’t for sissies.
We have to hurry to light the fire on the gas stove in the cellar porch. We still have cold water! We’re excited. Must keep the cold water pipe from freezing. (All the pipes come into the house through the frigid cellar porch.) Just have to be careful not to blow myself up lighting the gas stove with a match. I light one burner for now. Sometimes I have to light two.
Cats take over deserted bedrooms. Nobody will bother them in there.
We roll towels and shove them against drafty doors. The house laughs at us.
A snow plow actually comes down our boonies road, but snow keeps falling, covering its tracks.
We aren’t going anywhere today.
Dogs go outside, and beg immediately to come back in.
We fill our 2 1/2 gallon water containers. Just in case. We could lose the cold water any time now.
We need comfort food. Cracker candy sounds good….. Georgia, my cousin’s mother, has dipping chocolate next door. If we can’t have hot water, we can have chocolate.
Georgia says cracker candy satisfies all her longings. She makes a big batch every winter to share with everyone then keeps what’s left in a box in her refrigerator for when she has a longing. Just, you know, in case you’re visiting and want to sneak some.
Children play outside, then complain that they’re bored. I have a chore list.
Nighttime comes. We keep water running in the faucets, hoping to get through the night without the cold water pipe freezing.
Cats play dress-up.
Dogs find their spot by the fire. It’s evening again in the one-hundred-year-old farmhouse. We find electric blankets, space heaters, covers and slippers.
It’s going to be a two-burner night.
