I sometimes speak of my art studio and looking out the window on this Blog - well yesterday, during the blizzard, this is pretty much what I saw through the flying snow - oh - and it was cold too - colder than my wife's tootsies when we crawl into bed at night. I should also mention that it's not very warm in my studio either. It feels real warm when you first come in from the freezing cold outside but after I sit for awhile at the computer, my body and especially my hands and feet soon cool off. Although the studio is quite small (200sq. ft., if that) inside the old garage and a small airtight stove is located in the centre of it, the space is kept heated with a small electric heater. I shouldn't complain about the lack of warmth because at least my beer is cold.
The first time I lit the woodstove, the heat was so unbearable I was forced to open the windows and doors. However, even though I've since controlled the heat, the last time it was lit, creosote began running like the sticky boogers in my nose, down the new pipe I'd installed to the chimney. I can't risk a chimney fire or any kind of a fire for that matter because if the building ever began to burn, all our stacked firewood in the attached woodshed, which we use to heat the house, would go up in flames as well. So, until I'm safely able to climb up on the snow and ice encrusted metal roof without sliding off so I can clean the flue, I'll just have to blow on my hands and wiggle my toes to keep them warm.
When I built the studio last summer, because of the badly busted up concrete floor and none of the walls were square, it was a rather creative endeavor for an amateur carpenter. And sadly, because of the last brutal rain storm, the water gushed off the road onto the driveway and into the garage, which I suppose, before too long, will rot the flooring joists; all my cussing and cursing will have been for naught. And, if for some miraculous reason the rain hasn't destroyed the floor, when I look at all the snow surrounding the building and know that there is more snow on the way, my mind refuses to think about what will happen when all that beautiful, white fluffy stuff begins to melt - I knew there was a reason why I brought my dinghy all the way out here to the base of Green Mountain from the west coast of BC - I may have to attach a sail to it if the rivers and lakes rise to our level, so we can get the hell out of here.
I hadn't been planning on building such a small studio but "Buddy", our big, old metallic green, 4x4 diesel truck had to have a place to get out of the cold, come winter. I don't know how many times I measured the length of that truck but when it came time to put it in the garage, the space allotted was 3" too bloody short. If anyone had heard me cursing like a foul-mouthed lumber-jack in the summer, their ears I'm sure would have been bleeding profusely when they heard the language which spewed out of my mouth then. In the above photo you will see a small reddish addition on the front of the garage. It's a temporary entrance way, which I built so the truck would fit. I have never spent so much moolah on a vehicle before - damned near could have paid off our mortgage for the money we spent on it this year. And the hell of it is, we'd just replaced the bent moose-pusher on the front of the truck about two months ago, which cost about $1,400.00, when my wife, while backing out old "Buddy", the truck suddenly slid on the ice and caught the pusher on the edge of the doorway. I would have thought the truck would have tore the addition off the building, which would have been an inexpensive fix - but no - the truck bent and broke the sturdy metal moose-pusher instead.
As odd as it seems, even though the sun has been hiding out behind the heavy dark grey clouds for quite some time now, the temperature bone-chilling and below zero, the wind blowing like snot out of an ox's nose and the snow drifts up to my bulging waist, I have to admit that I like this old place near the base of Green Mountain. I've never been a fan of winter; I like summers best or nice, warm, colourful autumns. Spring is a time for rebirth and although there's nothing about me that's being reborn - cripes everything is sagging south towards a big, dark hole in the ground like a mud slide rushing down a bare hillside - I still really look forward to the new buds and seedlings poking their heads out of the moist soil. I realize work out here in the country never really ends; I'll have to trade the snow shovel for a garden spade come Spring but somehow a spade just seems more productive. Raising my beer above my head, "Here's to winter's end - only four more months or so to go!"
Cheers -eh!
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