That time again

Yesterday I spent all day putting things away in preparation for the big storm coming to California, with love, from Japan. It was a rip-roaring typhoon over there, and couldn’t wait to get its mitts on the Golden State and scare the pants off every emergency planner in every county north of Los Angeles. On the radio were warnings about the roads especially. A whole summer of dripping oil and tire dust was coating all the roads and the rain was going to soak in and lift all that slick stuff to the surface. Fresno’s sheriff said “act as if you’re driving on ice.” I wonder if she knows that practically nobody in California has ever driven on ice!

Last night I gingerly put a load of paper, kindling, and split firewood into the stove and set it afire. I went outside to see if any sparks were coming up the chimney. I am sure I probably burned out innumerable spiders who built their webs in the chimney over the summer. It hadn’t started raining yet, so it could be a problem if a bunch of flaming spiders riding their glowing webs started blasting out of the smokestack and landing in the dry oak trees surrounding the house. But there were none, so I relaxed and turned up the heat a bit.

It’s going to be wonderful to spend a winter slow-cooking all kinds of wonderful meals on this little gem of a stove. Free heat! Almost.

He who cuts his own firewood warms himself twice.