The Warm-Up
I might have documented the first three days on the land if I wasn’t so preoccupied with staying warm.
That first afternoon in the trailer welcomed us with streaming sunshine and sweeping mountain views. Then the clouds and snow blew in so we couldn’t see the sun, or the mountains even, for days. Worst of all was the uncharacteristic damp fog that lingered, forming icicles on everything. It was like being in Vancouver in November or somewhere a host of dementors had descended.
It was full blown winter and we were living in a camper trailer, using an outhouse without a roof. We knew we’d have to face Old Man Winter if we moved to the land in March and I took it in stride at first, stoically flipping the foam seat to avoid sitting on snow in the privy and bundling up in extra layers.
Night was the hardest time for me. It was a shock to go from the automatically controlled, consistently heated and silent bedroom environment that had kept me so comfortable I was oblivious to it- to sleeping in a toque, base layer, Rocky sweat suit, wool socks, and lined moccasins with the duvet pulled partly over my head while a generator roared, and the wind howled right outside the thin walls of the trailer. Thankfully the boys’ quad bunk room, which has a vent and is sheltered from the wind, was much warmer and quieter than our master or I would probably be writing in a different location now.
I don’t exaggerate when I say that those first three days were some of the most humbling of my life and that the fervor of my scripture study and prayer drastically deepened. The heat completely cut out on us twice. I was waking frequently in the night and I was desperate for the comfort of a hot bath at the end of each day. In the meantime, Matt was gone from sunup to sundown, called into work in the city to manage an emergency.
The second day the furnace stopped almost as soon as Matt commuted to work an hour away. We were forced to drop our homeschool routine and drive to the nearest town to kill time, beginning with the boys drinking hot chocolates and listening to Mouse on a Motorcycle in the Tim Hortons parking lot while we waited for businesses to open. Finally, later in the afternoon, after shopping, driving aimlessly, swimming, and reading in the library, I ran out of activities to do in town, and we drove back with an hour to go until Matt might be home.
Hardly past the threshold of our freezing cold trailer I heard our 5 year old mumble, “I wish we still lived in a normal house” (miraculously this was the closest anyone came to a complaint). Poor kid, we could see our breath indoors. I have no idea why any of us bothered to remove our winter coats, the temperature was nearly the same outside as in. Meanwhile, our 9 year old was blowing on his hands to warm them enough to hold a pencil to complete his copy work, in an uncanny imitation of Bob Cratchit.
The next day, the furnace was blowing cold air up the vents. Over the phone Matt walked me through switching to a full propane tank but it took hours for the temperature in the trailer to feel nearly warm enough again. I had kept up a good show but I gave into silent sobbing.
What was I doing? We were just as capable as any other middle-class family of living in a “normal” house. Was it cruel to subject my children to winter boondocking when we didn’t have to? That was the ethical debate raging in my head.
The boys meanwhile were so good natured and trusting. More than that, they had taken our new life in the spirit of a great adventure, even joking they would tell their kids one day about going to the bathroom in a snowy outhouse. It still astounds me. Those blessed, blessed boys! I don’t when I’ve loved them more. Their good spirits and humor carried me. Their trust and faith in this plan sustained me. If there had been a word of complaint or a hint that they found this new way of life unbearable I would have abandoned the plan, at least until normal camping weather resumed. But still I wasn’t convinced this was fair to the boys and I needed to see where Matt was at.
I asked Matt to bring hot food home for supper and just before he expected to be home, I sent the boys outside to play so we could talk privately.
I went straight to the main point, “I haven’t really felt warm for three days”.
Matt blew out all his air, “Really?” Matt is such a diligent provider, and I knew it was painful for him to hear we were cold at home while work kept him away from helping us. He was doing everything he could for our comfort at night when he was home, including sleeping lightly so he could wake to keep the generator running.
“Like not freezing to death, but not as toasty warm as I would like,” I tried to soften the blow.
I let myself wonder aloud for the first time whether if we might need to go back to renting a house. We briefly looked online to see if there was anything within ten to twenty minutes of our building site. There was, but of course living on our land was where our hearts were. We ate the hot, delicious malai kofta and butter chicken Matt brought home that night, drove to the nearest hot tub, and came back to face another cold night.
The heating situation resolved after those first three days, before the temperature dipped to its lowest, minus twenty-one degrees Celsius, and our furnace and generator needed to run an uninterrupted twenty-four hours. I can sleep comfortably in a single pair of cotton pajamas and socks now.
Of course, now the snow is now becoming mud and bringing a new set of challenges, but I know we’re where we want to be and we’ll just keep prayerfully working through the challenges as they come. Life never does allow us to anticipate and clear all the obstacles ahead of time. If we waited until we were ready, we’d never act and progress. The learning is in the doing.
