My Nose is an Icicle
It's not particularly cold these days, at least not by New England standards. The thermometers show temperatures in the low fifties, upper forties during the day, and upper thirties at night (max. 13ºC, min. 3ºC). Yet, I get out of bed shivering and stay shivering most of the day I'm at home. Inside the house it's not much warmer. While, in the mornings, the contrast is greater, it's not really warm inside the house. The joys of having a wood stove as the only generator of heat in the house.
When I get up, I try to move to warm up. If I'm going out, so much the better. While driving, I turn on the heater, and the car warms up, sometimes too much. Whatever store or office I step into is warm and heated. I'm warm, my feet are warm, and so are my nose and fingers. I don't usually wear a coat, because the reality is that it isn't cold. Walking and stepping in and out of heated places warms me enough.
At home I light the fire. If I don't go out, I warm up by moving around and doing things. Still, I'm not really warm, and will stand by the fire whenever I'm still. The good thing is, that on sunny days, the sun pours in the kitchen window. I can sit at the table, laptop before me, and feel the warm sun on my back. On rainy days, the temperatures really don't drop too much below 50ºF/10ºC, so there's no biting chill in the morning air, just a universal dampness that needs to be dispelled with a roaring fire.
The problem comes in the afternoon. I give classes in my study, on the other side of the hall from the kitchen. The warmth from the wood stove turns feeble the further into the house it travels, so I have a backup electric heater in the study for the sake of my students and mine. Every afternoon I turn it on, though I crank it up only on the coldest days. Still, a difference is noted whenever the front door is opened. The temperature in there still isn't very warm, though, and in the evenings after the last student leaves, I turn off the heater and head for the kitchen, to stand in front of the stove and thaw out after sitting or standing still and slowly losing body heat during the afternoon.
The problem comes on weekends. With the electric bill reflecting the use of the heater during the week, I am reluctant to turn it on to stay in the studio and paint with my pastels. I sometimes go into the studio on a Sunday and take out the drawing of the picture I have been wanting to paint for the last month. I pull up the picture on the computer screen, and take out the boxes of pastels. And then I slowly turn numb. My fingers become popsicles, my feet chunks of ice, and I rub the icicle of my nose to make sure it's still on my face. I try to think of the colors I should use, and how to begin, where to begin and how to proceed. But I can only think of the lit stove in the kitchen and standing in front of it.
That's it. I can't think, I can't concentrate, I can only shiver. I give up, again, and head for the kitchen. There, I stamp my feet in front of the stove, and wait for my husband to come home from fishing. I suppose there'll be time in the summer to paint in a gently cool room with warm breezes flitting in through the open window. If another Little Ice Age should appear, like some scientists say is overdue, I think I'll head for the tropics, unless the mega hurricanes that are going to be spawned by climate change blow everything away. Now I understand why our ancestors had the animals in the house. They didn't have central heating, just incorporated stables next to the kitchen, under the bedrooms. The animals' heat would rise through the floor boards. Kind of smelly for a modern house, though, so I don't think I'll be buying a cow anytime soon.
When I get up, I try to move to warm up. If I'm going out, so much the better. While driving, I turn on the heater, and the car warms up, sometimes too much. Whatever store or office I step into is warm and heated. I'm warm, my feet are warm, and so are my nose and fingers. I don't usually wear a coat, because the reality is that it isn't cold. Walking and stepping in and out of heated places warms me enough.
At home I light the fire. If I don't go out, I warm up by moving around and doing things. Still, I'm not really warm, and will stand by the fire whenever I'm still. The good thing is, that on sunny days, the sun pours in the kitchen window. I can sit at the table, laptop before me, and feel the warm sun on my back. On rainy days, the temperatures really don't drop too much below 50ºF/10ºC, so there's no biting chill in the morning air, just a universal dampness that needs to be dispelled with a roaring fire.
The problem comes in the afternoon. I give classes in my study, on the other side of the hall from the kitchen. The warmth from the wood stove turns feeble the further into the house it travels, so I have a backup electric heater in the study for the sake of my students and mine. Every afternoon I turn it on, though I crank it up only on the coldest days. Still, a difference is noted whenever the front door is opened. The temperature in there still isn't very warm, though, and in the evenings after the last student leaves, I turn off the heater and head for the kitchen, to stand in front of the stove and thaw out after sitting or standing still and slowly losing body heat during the afternoon.
The problem comes on weekends. With the electric bill reflecting the use of the heater during the week, I am reluctant to turn it on to stay in the studio and paint with my pastels. I sometimes go into the studio on a Sunday and take out the drawing of the picture I have been wanting to paint for the last month. I pull up the picture on the computer screen, and take out the boxes of pastels. And then I slowly turn numb. My fingers become popsicles, my feet chunks of ice, and I rub the icicle of my nose to make sure it's still on my face. I try to think of the colors I should use, and how to begin, where to begin and how to proceed. But I can only think of the lit stove in the kitchen and standing in front of it.
That's it. I can't think, I can't concentrate, I can only shiver. I give up, again, and head for the kitchen. There, I stamp my feet in front of the stove, and wait for my husband to come home from fishing. I suppose there'll be time in the summer to paint in a gently cool room with warm breezes flitting in through the open window. If another Little Ice Age should appear, like some scientists say is overdue, I think I'll head for the tropics, unless the mega hurricanes that are going to be spawned by climate change blow everything away. Now I understand why our ancestors had the animals in the house. They didn't have central heating, just incorporated stables next to the kitchen, under the bedrooms. The animals' heat would rise through the floor boards. Kind of smelly for a modern house, though, so I don't think I'll be buying a cow anytime soon.
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