The morning of Day 2
I am warm enough in my tent - I even sweated through the night, in my 30 degree sleeping bag, piled with blankets and a down comforter. I arise, assess the temperature to be around 40 degrees, leave the tent, keeping my three furry children safe inside.
It has started to snow outside, and the partially-ripped plastic sails on the domes are flapping violently. The plastic sectioning off the domes has been ripped free and is moving in the wind... wooden stakes ripped from icy mud and jerking around on the ground like a livewire...
I go to relight the rocket stove we built a month ago out of cob, firebricks and an air tank. Sleepy and cozy, I had let it die overnight. It needs fed every 2 hours - currently in prototype mode.
I kneel on a wooden board, my fleece pants brushing against mud floor, and peer into the long terra cotta pipe that feeds the burn chamber. I add 5 pinecones collected yesterday, while singing a song of tremendous thanks to the mother Earth for warmth and beauty, love and light. I add three 2"x8" hardwood pieces, using a piece of wood to shove them deep into the pipe. I add small pieces of wood, strike up a firestarter, holding it upside down for a few moments to help it get going, and toss it into the stove. Ignition! My first self-made fire, ever.
This city girl has some lessons to learn...
Satisfied with myself, I straighten up, and call my Earthship Group partner Daniel, to see when he will arrive. My homesick heart and fish-straight-outta-water head had me nearly begging him to please come help, the night before. Today he will arrive to help plan and build and prepare for the wicked super-below-freezing temperatures and snowstorm that are due to arrive within days.
Shortly into our conversation, I glance at my rocket stove and mouth an expletive. Smoke is billowing into the room around the fire bricks, and as I watch, flames lick at the entrance.
Ensue freakout mode.
Coughing and squinting, I remove as much of the fuel as I can. Sassy is crying incessantly. The room is filling with smoke. The loud, violent beating of the sails raises the intensity of the situation further. I swing wide the large plywood door to the ship and stumble out into a blizzard, heading for the barn as refuge.
Rocket stove temporarily out of commission.
Mike is gone to work for the day so I'm on my own. This homesick city girl is left feeling damn witless until the radio starts playing Katy Perry.
"I got the eye of the tiger
the fire
(to be continued...)
It has started to snow outside, and the partially-ripped plastic sails on the domes are flapping violently. The plastic sectioning off the domes has been ripped free and is moving in the wind... wooden stakes ripped from icy mud and jerking around on the ground like a livewire...
I go to relight the rocket stove we built a month ago out of cob, firebricks and an air tank. Sleepy and cozy, I had let it die overnight. It needs fed every 2 hours - currently in prototype mode. I kneel on a wooden board, my fleece pants brushing against mud floor, and peer into the long terra cotta pipe that feeds the burn chamber. I add 5 pinecones collected yesterday, while singing a song of tremendous thanks to the mother Earth for warmth and beauty, love and light. I add three 2"x8" hardwood pieces, using a piece of wood to shove them deep into the pipe. I add small pieces of wood, strike up a firestarter, holding it upside down for a few moments to help it get going, and toss it into the stove. Ignition! My first self-made fire, ever.
This city girl has some lessons to learn...
Satisfied with myself, I straighten up, and call my Earthship Group partner Daniel, to see when he will arrive. My homesick heart and fish-straight-outta-water head had me nearly begging him to please come help, the night before. Today he will arrive to help plan and build and prepare for the wicked super-below-freezing temperatures and snowstorm that are due to arrive within days.
Shortly into our conversation, I glance at my rocket stove and mouth an expletive. Smoke is billowing into the room around the fire bricks, and as I watch, flames lick at the entrance.
Ensue freakout mode.
Coughing and squinting, I remove as much of the fuel as I can. Sassy is crying incessantly. The room is filling with smoke. The loud, violent beating of the sails raises the intensity of the situation further. I swing wide the large plywood door to the ship and stumble out into a blizzard, heading for the barn as refuge.
Rocket stove temporarily out of commission.
Mike is gone to work for the day so I'm on my own. This homesick city girl is left feeling damn witless until the radio starts playing Katy Perry.
the fire
Dancing through the fire
'Cause I am a champion
'Cause I am a champion
and you're gonna hear me roar
Louder
Louder
louder than a lion
'Cause I am a champion
'Cause I am a champion
and you're gonna hear me roar!"
So I grab my toolbelt, hammer and slap stapler and begin stapling back up the plastic wall dropped on either side of the dome, starting at the top, triple layering, stapling, then hammering firmly into wall.
Action counteracts anxiety!
When Daniel arrives, he assesses the situation and makes a plan - we will use the existing plastic and 2x4s to frame up a wall where as currently there is plastic flapping free, and create a sturdier wall, tamping the plastic down with 2x3" squares of wood (plastic has a tendency to tear, and there are sometimes 30mph+ winds here).
The end result is quite fantastic. After working into the night with headlamps, drills and layers, we finish the walls in about 24 hours.
The rocket stove will need further assessing...
(to be continued...)
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