Archives for the month of: February, 2009

A pile in our woods

As the temperatures dropped and winter started to set in this year, we were a little nervous for three reasons:

1. Insulation – We’d never been through a winter trying to heat this house before. We’d taken our house from 0% insulated to 100% insulated, but the only way we were going to find out whether we’d succeeded was to live through this winter and see whether we could keep the house warm.

2. Woodstove only – We’d also assumed that our new woodstove would be enough to keep our house warm and toasty for the winter. With no back-up heating plan, we were hoping that my research about wood heat was right.

3. Firewood – We’d cut and stacked over six cords of wood, which we’d calculated to be enough.
We were convinced that we’d been making educated decisions, but we weren’t really sure–especially since our firewood was nowhere near as dry and seasoned as it should have been.

Once the first snowfall hit and winter was upon us, we crossed our fingers that our house could hold heat inside, and that we had enough firewood to last through the winter.

Here are our three separate piles of firewood. In total, they were equivalent to approximately 6.5 cords.

Here’s pile #1: We called her Short-and-Stout. Short-and-Stout lasted for a long time. Short-and-stout is gone now. Thanks for keeping us warm, S&S. We love(d) you.

Cameron at pile #1

Here’s pile #2. She was called Tall-Skinny-Vixen. She was a tall drink of water. Even so, she still went up in smoke. We just burned her tiny toes last night. Tall-Skinny-Vixen is no more.

Cameron at pile #2

Here’s pile #3. She’s called Pangaea (also known as Lonely Mary), and she’s the matriarch of the pile-herd. She was off-limits for many months. But this morning she sighed. With a grimace, she said we could take a few pieces every day if we asked nicely and promised to build her a barn for next winter.

Cameron and pile #4

Insulation – The insulation is keeping the heat in so well we’ve put away our winter quilt.
Woodstove only – The woodstove generates more than enough heat to warm our entire house.
Firewood – The firewood has lasted longer than I dared to imagine.

Our two wood piles, Short-and-Stout and Tall-Skinny-Vixen, have served us well.

Our last remaining pile, Lonely Mary, is still standing strong–relatively untouched. She still measures 4 cords and most of her will be around next year, I guarantee it.


I recently read Nicole’s blog post about being on the “treadmill of modern day life” as she and her husband endeavour to transition “from a hectic Southern Ontario lifestyle to a back to the land approach that will hopefully lead [them] to Nova Scotia in search of a simpler life.” Nicole recognizes that she’s “building the foundation to a simple life” and that it takes time to get there.

Nicole’s post (in which she explains that she’s tired from her full-time job and progress toward their goal is not as quick as she would like) reminded me of our own struggles as we transitioned from urban to rural life a few years ago.

I provide this video as inspiration (I hope). This video was taken right as the transition was starting to happen, and I fondly remember the excitement we felt as our dreams were starting to become reality. It was all the more exciting because it had taken us years to get to the point that’s captured on film.

As I wrote in Nicole’s comments, achieving a dream may take a while. But if you really want something, make a list and write down the 38(?) things you’re going to need to do to achieve your ultimate goal. Then just keep plugging away at your list and eventually you’ll find yourself in a grainy moment like the one captured in this video.

The video was taken in our old condo in Victoria BC, in late 2007. A few days after the video was taken, our dreams started to become reality. We were leaving urban life behind and heading to the country. We moved out of our luxurious condo…and began living in our car. A month later, we arrived on Prince Edward Island; soon after, we moved into the country farmhouse we affectionately call Whimfield.

The video is just of me (Laura-Jane) talking a few nights before our adventure officially “began.”

I used to live on the west coast of Canada, where we almost never got any snow. When you never get snow, the slightest hint of the white stuff makes people go crazy and there’s a snowman in every second yard.

Now, I live on the east coast of Canada, where snow is a part of everyday life. There’s so much snow that last year’s Christmas tree got buried in three feet of snow.

This afternoon, Cameron and I got to talking about snowmen and how we can’t recall seeing one this winter at all. Now, that’s not to say that people around here don’t take the time to build them. Remember that we don’t get out much, so there could be thousands of lonely snowmen in this town that I’ve never had the honor of setting my eyes on.

But the point I’m trying to make is that when there’s something lovely around you all the time, you tend to take it for granted.

Today, if you can, make a snowman.

Laura-Jane on a cold walk

1. When the sun reflects off the snow, the world looks so bright and happy.

2. Winter is the bug-free season.

3. And it’s curling season!

4. Spotting animals tracks in the snow opens your eyes to secret mammal lifestyles you wouldn’t otherwise know about.

5. Winter makes summer that much sweeter.

6. There’s no grass to cut.

Our long lawn

7. Christmas!

8. Hanging out by the woodstove.

9. Snowshoeing. (OK. I’ve never actually done it. But I hear good things!)

10. Looking outside your window, watching snow fall, and feeling warm and happy at home.

Whimfield, our house

On days like today, winter is my friend (unlike yesterday).

Our blasted driveway

Snowy Driveway, I know it’s not your fault.

But, really, we’ve talked about this before; you must behave.

When there’s the least bit of wind, you allow your three-foot snow drift sides to blow right down into the driveway again. And this is simply unacceptable.

Now, I know it’s not the best situation, Snowy Driveway. I know you’re not supposed to have three-foot snowbanks. I realize that most other driveways are nice and flat and they don’t have to deal with any snowbanks.

But, Snowy Driveway, I can’t change how you were made, and you just need to make the best of who and what you are.

I simply must implore that you stop this madness right away.

Your father may be patient and able to blow you out without complaints, but I will not stand for it.

While I was traveling you got away with mischief, but I am home now and things had better change from now on.

I still love you, but please go to your room and don’t come out until you’re ready to act like all the other driveways.

Love,
Your mother

Laura-Jane in her fav. tree!

1. I love living in the country because I can climb trees without feeling weird–even though I am nearing my thirties.

2. I love living in the country because it makes me appreciate being able to drive out of my driveway. (Today, we’re snowed in. But we didn’t have to go anywhere anyway.)

Our car outside our house

3. I love living in the country because it makes me eat more healthfully. When you can’t really get pizza delivered, you eat frozen pizza. And when you run out of frozen pizza you dig around for some vegetables either in the fridge (winter) or in the garden (summer).

Vegetarian pizza

4. I love living in the country because if I want to dance and sing at the top of my lungs in my house, I can. And no one’s going to hear me and tell me that I’ve got the words all wrong or that I’ll never be on Broadway.

Laura-Jane dancing in kitchen

5. I love living in the country because of birds and frogs and squirrels.

A squirrel in our shed

6. I love living in the country because in the country you can really test your love. If your spouse still loves you when you look really country, then you know your relationship will last.

Laura-Jane - Not a pretty picture

7. I love living in the country because I can invite friends and family to camp out in our yard. And people actually come because we live in the country!

My dad and step-mom leaving :(

8. I love living in the country because I can look outside and my eyes can see far, far, far away.

Laura-Jane in a Whimfield field

9. I love living in the country because of trees. Look at them!

A neighbour's tree

10. I love living in the country because I can live there with the person I love. The country just wouldn’t be the same without him.

Cameron cutting our Christmas tree

My plane landed in Charlottetown

Home sweet home!

I am back home after spending 16 days in transit to British Columbia and back home again to Prince Edward Island, Canada. While away, I took four planes, two ferry rides, and experienced numerous bus escapades.

All I can say after arriving back is thank heaven for home sweet home!

Although stepping back off the plane onto the runway was, in a word…cold!

I came home and lay on our hearth to get warm.

How long before I get my PEI weather legs back again?

Laura-Jane and her feet

For the past week I have been on a crazy, sad trip back to British Columbia, Canada, where I was born and raised. I’m still away from the farm, and I am writing to you from my parents’ house in a tiny bed, 6000 kilometres away from Whimfield Farm, the place I now call my home.

Since we started living a rural lifestyle, I’ve turned into a country woman.

Cameron and Laura-Jane in their driveway

But there were periods during my old life–before we moved to the frozen country–where I fancied myself a rather glamorous gal. I had regular appointments at a chic hair salon and I shaved my legs on a fixed schedule.

The old Laura-Jane

Over the past week, now that I’m back where my glamorous days began, I’ve taken to lounging in bathrobes, soaking in hot tubs, drinking fancy teas, and getting pedicures.

Where’s Cameron? He’s back on the farm, keeping the fire burning and the driveway clear.

This juxtaposition of me gallivanting across the country in high-heels and he keeping our house warm in jarring to us both. Our phone conversations are jilted:

I’m all, “I can only talk for seven minutes because I have an appointment and then I’m meeting a friend for a walk in the sunshine and then I have to take a train somewhere. But I miss you!”

And he’s all, “I just spent two hours clearing the driveway and I did 38 hours of renovating work during the last 24 hours and I wanted to leave the house to get groceries but the car wouldn’t start ’cause it’s minus twenty celsius. But I miss you!”

My nylons and I aren’t quite sure what to think. They’re telling me to proclaim that there’s room for red toes on the farm, too. Do you think it’s possible?