It's snowing now, as we settle in for the evening under a pile of blankets and try to stay warm.  Mr. Heater burns bright in the middle of the room and does a decent job of taking the chill out of the air.  Propane canisters are expensive, though, and not a long term solution.

We bought stove pipe today.  Hurrah!

The boxes are carefully stacked next to the wood stove, ready to be installed tomorrow.

* * * * *

I wrote this two weeks ago, the day before I turned thirty six and two days before the freak, early November storm that dropped more than eight inches of snow on our little homestead.  

The landscape is heavy with white and the wind whips each new dusting around so that we can't see the road or the neighbor's farm off in the distance.  It's terrifying and comforting at the same time.  

Mike and I snuggled around the wood stove last night {oh heat, how good it is} laughing about our Mr. Heater days and how much we've sacrificed to live here.  To be happy in the cold and snow.  And how we almost quit about a hundred time, but didn't.  And how we wouldn't give this up for anything.