Cookin' with Gas





The deal is done, Woodchuck Acres is sold. We got the check!

We have a loooooooooong to-do list waiting for this moment; at the very top are: get a woodstove and run propane lines.

Teapot standing in for yet-to-be-delivered wood stove.



We found some cheap, not too ugly ceramic tiles and I put down a base for the stove (my first attempt at tiling, not too difficult but hard on the lower back).

Then we made a foray into Louisville to the nearest store that sold Lopi wood stoves.

We had a Lopi in New York and were impressed with the ease of use AND it has a cooktop. That's two ways to save money! The store was busy and the first gent who waited on us didn't know if they carried Lopis--until I pointed out that he was leaning on one. He blushed and explained he was a repair guy filling in for sales staff. We eventually talked with the sales manager and agreed, not only on a stove, but a complete installation package. We're talking mucho dinero here but Tom and I were not thrilled with installing another chimney or trying to manhandle a heavy stove into the house, etc. Been there, done that.

Our Indiana house is taller than this with a steeper roof--I wouldn't be smiling if we did it ourselves here!



We have a few cords ("ricks" out here) from that dead elm but need more. In NY we bought from a wiry, elderly man who brought it in his dumptruck. I looked forward to his delivery and his wealth of stories and he only lived about 4 miles away. Here I called our nearest neighbor (the one who bushhogged our field and his bucket loader and tractor helped pull down a dead pine limb) for a reference and, lo and behold, he also sells firewood. So we can get it from a source 1/4 mile away--I love buying locally!

So, the wood stove is on it's way. Now on to the propane lines.

 I wanted a line for a kitchen stove, a water heater, and an outside valve for a propane generator. I had delusions of doing this myself--so what if I've never dealt with potentially deadly gas and couldn't figure out how to crawl the 20 feet that would need to be navigated on your stomach over and under heating ducts and water pipes and through a cement block wall? We briefly considered cutting a trap door in the floor of the kitchen so I could somehow snake pipe along and... In this case, the musician in the family was the realistic one and talked me out of this endeavor.

A plumber who knew what he was doing came and within 3 hours had all lines done and we were using our gas stove by that afternoon. Sometimes you've just got to admit your inadequacy and bring in a professional.

Two major things checked off! It's wonderful to have money--at least for a little while.

Can Do Attitude!

With no garden this year, I didn't plan on doing any canning. But then I got a great deal on some ground beef at the supermarket and decided to add it to the pantry.

Meat needs to be pressure canned. No problem. I knew exactly where the canner was as it has been nestled in a corner of the kitchen since we moved in.

I figured I needed about a dozen jelly jars; I like to do small jars of meat as we use just enough for a bit of flavor in spaghetti sauce or soups. There were some empty jars in the bedroom, but only 3 jelly jars. I knew there were canning jars in a box upstairs, behind the box with the unpacked pictures and under the broken computer monitor. That netted two more.

Think! I have dozens of small jars and I vaguely remembered finding a great place for them. Of course, in the bathroom closet under the yogurt maker.

I now had enough jars and rings, the canner, the jar lifter and tongs, funnel. What else?... Lids!

Easily found my stash of Tattler reusable lids but  I haven't used them much for pressure canning so we went looking for the metal lids. This search took both of us. Not in any kitchen drawer or cupboard, not in the canner or with the jars. Not in the atrium (our fancy name for the utility room) or in the bedroom drawers or in either of the card catalogs (every retired librarian should have a few card catalogs lying around).

A-ha! The lids were in the drawer of my treadle sewing machine.

Got the meat heated, jars washed, lids boiled. Ladeled the hamburger and some broth into the jars, sealed them, and lowered them into the hot water in the canner. Secured the lid...and realized I had no idea where the lid weight jiggler was. No jiggler = no pressure. No pressure = botulism and a painful death.

Now we're on the clock because once the canner starts to release steam, you have ten minutes to vent it before you add the weight. However, we were now getting so good at locating canning supplies that this search only took one or two minutes before we found it in the cabinet where I keep linens and cheesemaking stuff.

We now know where most of the canning items are.
And as an additional reward for all of that scramble, every jar sealed. 

We're not lumberjacks, but we're ok.

Really.

No casualties, no crushed legs or feet, no gushing blood.

We did loosen some stones in the fire ring, land a limb on the play set, get the chain stuck a few times, damage part of the chicken fence, and my back seized a few times.

I'll start at the beginning.




After the first limb was cut (I forgot to get a "before" shot).


One of the few large trees on our property was an elm tree. Of the three main trunks, two were dead and one was looking to pass over.
It needed to come down.

We've got an electric chainsaw, have read the Paul Bunyan stories, and are gifted with a great store of optimistic stupidity; we could do this ourselves.

The first trunk was going to be easy. The only things in its path were the fire ring, maybe the compost pile, and us, if it fell wrong. Tom cut a notch and it fell where it was supposed to; we were giddy with success. Not so bubbly after spending hours cutting it up and stacking the wood.

The next day I had to reset some of the ceramic tiles and couldn't grout yet (teaser for another article) so we decided to tackle the next dead piece.

This one had a clear field to fall. Except for the silver maple tree next to it and the play set. But we had all of that experience now and had improved our safety procedure (I now made sure to stand where Tom could see me wave my arms and shout "Move! Move!).

It hung up a bit on the maple and play set, and this is where the saw got stuck a few times, but it was down.

Then we tapped into that deep reservoir of can-do spirit (a.k.a. half-wittedness) and, after a rest and some ibuprofen,  went to face the challenge of the remaining limb.

The remaining limb. The live one. The one hanging directly over the chicken coop and fence.

The strategy: loop a rope over the limb, Cindy pull with all her mighty might, Tom cut, and hope for the best.

The reality: Cindy's might ain't, the rope broke, and the coop roof only has a few dents and the fence can be fixed.



Photo cleverly NOT showing the banged-up fence.



All in all, a successful venture. However, I am grateful that our other trees are hale and healthy (although there's that Scotch Pine with carpenter ants...) because I intend to retire my plaid coat, sell the Blue Ox, and hang up the ax.

Inch by Inch

I read a country living/prepper kind of internet forum regularly. One thread is "What did you do today to prepare for whatever...". Folks post about planting 50 acres of corn or building a root cellar or canning rutabagas.

Our big accomplishment yesterday was tearing up a corner of vinyl flooring.

Underwhelming, maybe. But for us, these past two months have been a series of baby steps. No, not even baby steps. More like first tri-mester, toes starting to develop steps.

• Locating the website that lists the local farmer who sells straw and getting a map to find his place--all for 10 bales for chicken bedding.  
• Calling and waiting for the plumber to fix the pressure tank so we can call around and find a used washing machine, which doesn't work at first so it has to be fixed.
• Cleaning up the debris from the fallen pine tree limbs only to have two more massive branches come down in as many days.

But mostly waiting for the sale of our former home so we have some money to really work on the to-do list.

But back to the floor.

We want a wood stove. While waiting for an estimate for installing a chimney (we did our last one ourselves and I don't want another crushed disc), we thought "Oh, easy-peasy first move--tear up the flooring in preparation for laying tile." Who would have thought that a piece of vinyl 5' x 5' would fight tooth and nail to stay on the floor. As the photo shows, it came off in layers, when it finally came off at all. We finally came to our senses and said "We've got to put down backerboard anyway, the layers can stay."

It looks crummy, took much longer than it should have, scraped our knuckles and hurt our backs, but it's progress. Real, tangible, step by step, inch by inch progress.