My Foodie Moment

While this LOOKS like parmesan orzo, asparagus cooked with blackened peppers, and roast chicken, it's ACTUALLY certified organic quinoa pasta, moulded avocado "spears" with peppers draped in kale, and gluten-free seitan "breasts." Yummy-yum! All the same great sights and smells but almost ZERO nutritional value! Next week: guacamole without avocado (hint: think SOY), date "steaks," and non-chocolate brownies (I used DIRT!).

Rites of Spring

Many signs of spring have appeared over the last few days. Puddles have formed, the snow crust has crumbled, and a few patches of grass can be seen. Today there was a very special harbinger of the new season: the first sighting of the Silver-Tipped Lesser Corolla. It has been three months since the last sighting, so we were somewhat anxious. Ollie is particularly concerned. Don't worry--STLCs have no fear of dogs and no difficulty defending themselves if provoked.

Much preparation was necessary; note the special Corolla-watching tools deployed. Here you can see what looks like a single eye peeping around the shed door (Silver-Tipped Lessers commonly winter in sheds, so don't tear down any on your property!). Although it was a long and hard winter, with about 1 m of snow accumulating and long periods of sub-zero weather, the STLC seems to have coped very well.




Here is a closer view. Our activities clearly woke the little fellow up and he gave voice to his characteristic warbling. At first there was only a dull metallic clicking, then a more encouraging chuckle, and finally a clear, strong note that I can only liken to purring. Pretty soon he'll emerge and try his wings--will he fly, I wonder?

Earth Hour

I celebrate the gift of electricity.

Normally, I'm that annoying person who turns lights out and radios off as he goes from room to room--but once a year I do it differently.

That cold, cold, wet day

The wind scoured the driveway, and
the snow is falling horizontally.

Outside it was stormy,
Downstairs it was steamy,
Upstairs it was brewy.

This is actually wine, with some stout
in the background.

Steaming off the old wallpaper:
"Next time, all the plaster goes"

Piled Higher and Deeper

I sank some sticks into the snow this week, measuring the depths at different locations in the woods. I avoided drifts and filled hollows. On the way back, I collected the sticks and cut them off at the snowline.

 As you can see, the depth ranged from 25" to 34"--that's going to take a while to melt! At this rate, there will still be plenty to cool our heels in April.

Chaos

After a certain point in renovations, the careful plan turns to utter chaos. Nothing is straight, nothing is square, and bloody-mindedness threatens to set in. Note the 19th-century "dead air" technology: two layers of plaster. We kept the horror to a minimum by shovelling out the plaster as we went along. Nothing erodes morale faster than tromping over piles of what were once your walls. Keeping the site clean keeps it somehow saner. This was the worst stage; the wind blew freely through the walls in many places, and insulation was often conspicuous by its absence. There was no tar paper (itself a turn of the century innovation) over the sheathing. Eventually, we progressed to the vapour barrier stage--an innovation this old fabric had never seen.


The windows are still covered with plastic, and it certainly improves them. It will be sad to lose these arched window frames, but I really cannot wait to have something more efficient. Even with "modern" aluminium storm windows, they are draughty.
After a few days of this, a walk in the woods is most welcome, and the weather cooperated. We are entering the best part of winter: warm, sunny days; moderate nights; and mild breezes. The dogs approved of a return to morning walks. The woods are full of rabbit tracks this winter, and Ollie is constantly lured off the trail by enticing smells. Then he has to swim back through the deep snow. Every trip, I tear down the branches that impinge on the trail (otherwise, when I walk before dawn I get slapped in the face). Even so, I find more branches to take down daily; I think the path must be well above ground level at this point. I'll try to measure the snow depth today, but I think there must be about three feet of it. The trees generally look quite healthy, but many have lost their leaders. Much of that damage took place during Arthur, and they haven't had a chance to recover. Everywhere I go I see more work for the spring--perhaps a hundred full-grown trees to take down. Forestry guidelines suggest young trees will recover fully from a lean of no more than 15 degrees; we have plenty at about 90! Most, unfortunately, are Tamarack--very poor firewood. Some I may dry out and use for supports for the workshop.

Something's rotten. . . .

Some jobs loom over one for years; this is one of them. I made a start this weekend, doing about as much as one can until the frost is out of the ground. First of all, here is the problem: Partly because of the damp in the workshop cellar, partly because of the quaint local custom of boarding up DIRT as an insulator, a number of joists (six) had rotted.

It did not help that they had been installed on 24-inch centres. As a result, the floor sagged badly, and my table saw seemed destined to plunge deep in the cold, dark ground. Yesterday and today I tore out the worst of the joists and installed new 2 by 8s, with a carry beam supported on jack posts.

Dealing with the wires that were strung through the joists was troublesome, but my trusty reciprosaw made pretty short work of cutting notches and freeing the cables. When the frost leaves the ground, I'll pour some sturdy footings and complete the job. The chimney is in the way, but I'll have to wait a few months to take that out. I'm always surprised at how picturesque this hell hole looks in photos. It gives me hope.