I awoke to find myself in the Sahara

 Another 8 inches or so of snow fell last night, and the fierce wind has sculpted it into the most beautiful and fantastic dunes and drifts. They are four feet deep in places and the ground is almost bare in others. Snow is piled against the lower windows, and also against one of the upper windows, due to the wind. I had to fight my way out of the door this morning to let Brio out. You can't see where I shovelled last night. The front steps are filled with snow so they resemble a pyramid, and somewhere under there is the front walk, which I will have to find and shovel out later this morning when the sun is up. Our neighbour across the street died on Valentine's Day, so I will try to get over there to shovel as well.

I suspect Hubby is not going to be able to get up here this weekend, either, to bring me home. I may be here until spring.

Slowly being entombed...

It has been snowing off and on for a couple of days here at the church. Last night it was a light dusting of tiny crystal particles, but today it is big fat flakes obliterating everything. I can only see properly out of two rooms -- the bathroom and vestry -- because the other windows are either stained glass or bubble glass. But right above my desk, one of the bubble glass panes was broken at some point and replaced with plain glass, so there's a little square of window I can see out of as I work. The cedars are slowly being frosted white. I wish I'd thought to bring a camera, because it is quite beautiful. I know this blog would be more interesting for you, poor readers, with pictures.

All is quiet. I have been writing madly (rewrites for the publisher) for 8-10 hours a day for the last few days. When it's going well, I feel I'm in a snow globe, and when it's not going well, I am in a padded cell. But I'm anticipating today's experience will flow well; I'm nearing the end.

Brio will be glad. Lying here on the couch, watching me work all day and write all evening has not been exciting for him. We stop to play ball, of course, but lately even that joy has paled, and now he lies there much of the time with his head on his paws, gazing steadily at me. I can't tell if he's sad, homesick, bored, tired, frustrated...or just content to sit and critique my creative process. If he knows, he isn't saying. I will bundle him out into the blizzard to walk to the lake this afternoon to perk him up. I know it perks me up, the cold wind in my hair and the icy pellets pinging off my face.

Stained Glass and the Test of Time

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the stained glass windows. For eighty years they served their purpose and did it well. They aren't energy-efficient, but the church congregation put plastic storm windows over them in winter and removed it every summer, and all was well.

When the church was closed and sold, the new owners no longer removed the plexiglass in summer, leaving it on year-round, and the heat build-up is what caused the lead in the stained glass windows to soften and sag. Until that point, the windows were apparently in great shape.

So...am I trying to fix a problem that doesn't exist? Do I really need to put expensive plain glass ($30,000-worth) on the outside of these windows? Can I continue to use the plexiglass storm windows (maybe with an ugly layer of insulation with them) in winter and remove them in summer? It's a pain and would require scaffolding, but it's doable. Although some damage has occurred to the stained glass, will it stop and not get any worse if I start removing the plexiglass in summer? And can I just get away with fixing the worst of the damage and leave the rest alone?

When I remove the plexiglass, I could insert a screen over the bottom section of the window that opens, to keep the bugs out. If I'm still worried about heat build-up in winter, I could vent the windows to the inside, and plug it up in summer so mosquitoes can't get in.

The great cathedrals and churches don't have glass over their stained glass. These windows were designed to function the way they do, and maybe, in the spirit of honouring history, I should just let them do what they were meant to do and not tamper with them.

And if they're not totally energy efficient, well, the $30,000 would buy a lot of propane. Right? 

Have I just bought back ten years of my life?

The windows are ready!

We received word this week that the new windows for the basement and the big round window for the balcony are finished and ready to go in. We just have to wait for a break in the weather...maybe April? Hopefully these windows will help with heat retention, because we're spending $700 a month on propane... And that's with the upstairs blocked off!

All about Ice

Today on my walk, I discovered a useful sign by the lake that explained how to know if the ice is safe to go out on. The strongest ice is blue. White ice is half the strength of blue ice. Gray ice is unsafe. It should be at least 15cm thick for people to skate on. It should be 20cm thick for a group of people to play hockey on. It should be at least 25cm thick to snowmobile on. Good to know! Though who would want to shatter the peace and quiet with a snowmobile, I don't know.

Absolutely no idea...

I was out walking Brio (wrapped in layers so only my eyeballs were showing), trudging through snow that clung to my boots like hoar frost, it was so cold. And I looked over, and the little boy next door was standing down by the creek behind the townhouses, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and no shirt. His torso was pink with cold, but he didn't seem to notice. He had a rock with a rope tied around it, and he was throwing the rock into the creek with a splash and then hauling it back up by the rope. Pretending he was ice fishing? Actually trying to club a fish? I have no idea. I hurried inside to get warm and left him to it.

Some excitement

 Sunday afternoon I walked Brio over to the conservation area, and there were about fifteen kids playing hockey on the lake. There are now four rinks cleared. Felt like something out of the 1950s, watching them play, while Moms and Dads sat in folding chairs on the edge of the rink to watch. Lovely. I don't typically like winter, but it's exhilarating and energizing here.

Tonight I got an email from Paul and Mary letting me know they had put some interesting historical stuff on a memory stick for me and left it in their mailbox for me to pick up. So I bundled up and walked briskly to get it, but the sun was setting, and by the time I got there, it was pretty dark. Felt a bit eerie on the dark road with only a few scattered glowing windows of farm houses to light my way. There aren't many street lights around here. As I was hurrying back, I saw in the distance several dark figures slink across the road, cross a snowy field, and disappear down toward the creek. They were big, bigger than dogs, and moving in a pack, and my first thought was wolves or coyotes. My second thought was "I'm stupid to be out here in the dark on my own. This isn't the city." My third thought was "I'm glad I didn't bring Brio. He'd try to chase them." And my fourth thought was, "How fast can I run to that house over there and will they let me in?"

But I kept striding along, trying to look bigger and more confident than I was, and when I reached the point where I'd seen the animals cross the road, I saw in the light of a lone street lamp...hoof prints. It had been a small herd of deer. Whew! Hurried on home, feeling silly. But it's true I shouldn't go out after dark by myself. There isn't much traffic, but there also isn't a sidewalk to walk on, and there are also farm dogs running loose here and there. Lesson learned.