hearth

the fourth letter

17 Nov 2024

Dear Jaclyn,

What are the gathering places around your home? Where is your hearth? The table? The tv screen? A deck or patio?  While we love coming together around the kitchen island to make a meal, hanging out on the porch in decent weather, or playing games in our unfinished basement studio, I’d venture to say that our favorite spot is around the woodburning stove in our library-ensconced living room. Situated amid two couches and a reading chair and across from a dusty out-of-tune piano, the squat black iron stove sits between south-facing windows. This room gets the least use in summer, when the cooler climes of air conditioning and lakeshores are sought. But in wintertime (and winters are long here), nowhere is cozier than in front of the crackling hearthfire. It is flickering and popping right now as I write this, while the wind pummels the countryside on a blustery day in November. Outside the windchime clangs tirelessly and the rocking chair gives an occasional thump. Branches creak and sway as gusts whoosh around bare trunks and against snug siding. Clouds blanket the sky, but now and then a patch of sun breaks through and pours in the windows onto the rug before the fire.

Back in 2014, in the same month that our closing date was set, I found a Jotul woodburning stove on ebay. The seller was driving from Wisconsin to Arizona, and we met him along the interstate and handed over $700 cash for the 1.5 x 2’ model manufactured in 1983. The most important feature, for me, was the glass windowed door. I wanted a sensible and aesthetically pleasing hearth.

Being a foreclosure, the house was winterized and the furnace was shot. Old baseboard radiators were disconnected from a defunct boiler tank. There was no heat source, apart from small electric space heaters in a couple rooms. Were we crazy to think we could heat our home with wood, like the frontiersfolk of history? Maybe. But we did it anyway.

Although we only waited until spring (Easter Sunday, April 5th, 2015) to officially move in, we wouldn’t install the chimney pipe and brick apron until October. The Jotul was fully functional just in time for our first winter living on the prairie. Woodracks, kindling materials, ash pail and fire poker we collected; methods of splitting, stacking, and seasoning wood would follow later. Our first source was a neighbor who dumped loads of chopped wood in our driveway. When the temps would drop, December-February, we’d use about a cord of hardwood in a month’s time. With our two-story chimney and constant buffeting winds, getting a good draft was the trickiest part of starting fires. Once the log is lit, the iron is warmed, and the smoke is properly drafting out the chimney, a woodburning stove is extremely efficient for heating adjacent rooms. In the farthest corners of the house, like bedrooms, bathroom, and basement, supplemental heat sources help keep things, namely, pipes, from freezing. A pellet stove, pipewarmers, electric space heaters aide in cutting the chill. Wool, down, and flannel layers provide additional insulation. Electric blankets and heat lamps contribute extra toastiness.

Tending the fire is an art. Different types of wood affect the burning rate and output. Density and dryness matter. Bark and sap can be detrimental. Certain sizes and cuts fit best, flow best, and last overnight. There are stages appropriate to each situation: kindling, stoking, feeding, burning, dampening, banking. I’ve burned myself when adding wood carelessly. A stray coal left a charred spot in the middle of the floor. A chimney fire supposedly sounds like a loud roar.

In March, 40 degrees reappears regularly on the thermometer, and Minnesotans begin to fling off their sweaters and socks. Overnight fires are no longer necessary. Mirroring the way they sputter on in October, hearthfires taper off in April. The woodpile is picked over scraps. The racks are put away. The chimney brush is folded and stored. The ashes are swept up. We scrub the glass one last time, black the stove, and are ready for next year.

a golden shovel