0106

The snow has stopped, and today is brilliant and sunny, with 8 inches of sparkling new snow on the ground, very picturesque. I take my lightweight (hi-tech plastic) shovel, and dig in. It's warm - around 40° - so the snow is wet and heavy, but I have lots of energy, and in 5 hours or so, I have cleared the circle around the pump house with paths to each shed, and the entire 300 foot driveway. I wasn't sure I had it in me. Then dig out the truck, and drive it into the cleared circle. I have to clear a path for it, as its 2-wheel drive and light rear end doesn't generate much traction.

Needless to say, all this leaves me tired & hungry, and I thoroughly enjoy my hearty pork roast supper.

0105

A sombre dawn, with light drizzle, which soon turns to snow. The forecast on the radio is for cold weather, and for an all-day snowfall. Winter. The grey sky confirms this, so I work indoors, resuming the slow task of insulating the walls.

The tedium lends itself to a mood of meditation. It begins by asking why I'm using such a laborious method to do this work. Of course, I remind myself right away of the Amish model. And further, I call back to mind my original motives for pursuing this whole way of life: The link between paying U.S. taxes and material cooperation with tax-funded abortion. The desire to seek, as much as possible, a non-consumerist alternative to the Culture of Death. There is a connection between all that and kneeling on a hard floor insulating one handful at a time the walls of an old farm house. I just need to occasionally remind myself, that's all.

OK, enough meditating. How about singing some old hymns, or Johnny Denver songs, to pass the time?

0104

Another beautiful day - sunny, breezy. I chop & stack the wood from the trees east of the strawberries. That should be enough wood for now, so I cover the stack, and take a short breather.

Late afternoon, I cut down the oat and sunflower stubble in the front garden, and spade up most of that patch. In the process, I find enough missed potatoes, beets, and carrots for supper, plus leftovers.

My new truck plates have finally come. At the mailbox, I see Pat and promise her a couple pie pumpkins - she seem to appreciate and make good use of whatever I offer (and is probably much more efficient in the kitchen than I).

0103

This morning dawns bright, fair, & warm. Right away I begin chopping more wood, finally cutting and storing the last of the old oak. Then I start felling a couple more trees east of the strawberries, and cutting them up. Up to 60° by now, and I'm in a T-shirt, when Lenore drives up with her friend Brenda. Time for a break, anyway, so I show them around a bit.

I don't need a real hot fire tonight, so I try burning some of the pine that I took from the big down tree west of the driveway. It doesn't burn well by itself; the old oak is much better.

0102

Seasonably cool today, and cloudy - even a little rain off & on. I fetch a few pumpkins from the basement - some are starting to spoil already - and bake 5 pies.

The cellulose insulation I've purchased is typically blown in. But that's a two-man job, so would necessitate finding and coordinating - with no phone yet - someone to help, plus at least two trips to town to pick up and return the rented blowing equipment. The deliberate preference for simple and manual methods make this a pretty easy decision. I will take my time (I've got all winter), and do it all myself, and by hand. The question is: how?

I take a length of rope, pass it through two old pipe couplings for weights, then tie the loop in a good knot. I go up to the southeast room, where I have removed the lower portion of sheetrock on both outside walls. I kneel by the first stud space, and feed the rope into the void until it bottoms out at the foundation wall. I mark the rope at that point, remove it, and throw a few handsful of cellulose down the void. Then lower the rope, using the couplings to tamp lightly, then more cellulose, tamp, etc. I've never done this before, but the pattern is familiar: slow, methodical, boring, repetitive work. Eventually, the void is filled, and I move to the next one. The best part is, I know that the void is completely filled, and that the insulation hasn't bridged, and won't settle. I'm learning to appreciate slow, methodical, boring, repetitive.

0101

Sunny & warm today as I bike to church, and am genuinely inspired by the Mass, and homily on the virtue of a grateful heart. Some interesting conversation afterward as well, including with Larry & Linda, who then invite me to their home. End up staying over 4 hours, a very lively and Catholic experience. People need people, and I'm glad to have a couple new friends nearby.

0100

Have made good progress in cutting up that pile of old oak logs. Some of it rotten, but I pick around that.

I wake up this morning with a little queasiness, make some chamomile tea, and break a jar in the process - not a good way to start the day. And, since I finish the bread at breakfast, I have to get 4 loaves kneaded & rising before I finally get outside.

Getting close to the end of the oak, and have over 2 cords of good firewood chopped and piled for burning this winter. After finishing with this oak, I'll have to cut up the new trees just felled, and then keep going, so I can get wood to season for next year, too.

Indoors at dusk for supper and a good fire. A little too good tonight... to get a fast start, I overload the firebox with corrugated and dry sticks, and soon the fire is roaring so hard that the stovepipe starts to glow red. I hurriedly damper, and things settle down. I'm learning, I'm learning.

0099

No Mass at St. William's since it's not a day of obligation this year. As I pray Lauds, the clear and mild dawn promises more fine weather, but by the time I have the first load of laundry washed and ready to hang, the breeze is picking up, and it's turning colder. The clothes dry quickly in the stiff breeze, and soon small branches are coming down here & there. I haul the big pieces of wood out from where I'd cut them Friday, and split & stack them in the shed.

After Vespers, I bake six pumpkin pies from the big pumpkin cooked yesterday. While they're baking, I cut into the southeast bedroom wall upstairs, to begin insulating. By bedtime, the wind is still blowing fiercely, and it's beginning to precipitate (snow? sleet?) a little.