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van, ready for the return journey.
We watched it go with mixed feeling. It was a cheery color, and it/ was for sure the very latest design in, wood-burning stoves. The stove-, , mover itself was a work of art, and . an amazing experience to behold in j action. But it left us back with the , problem of the cold farmhouse.
I looked at the fireplace. The masonry was central to the house, and;, the staircase to the second floor wound around it. The fireplace itself, was steel-lined, just like the cheerful.. red stove. The brickwork had a hollow cavity designed so that warm air ' could be ducted up to the bedrooms. . ,
Then the idea came into my head — why not run the fireplace like a stove? I had been much too timid.. ! Three logs burning in the grate was not enough. That nip in the Blue Ridge air required more. Stuff the fireplace with logs, like the neighbors stuff their stoves, I thought. 1 '
From that point on our farmhouse became warm. The masonry warmed the air upstairs and down, and the bright logs, safely contained behind a firescreen, warmed the living room. I somehow think we are now as warm as our neighbors, even ’ without a stove. T’
The adventure in heating was .? worth the trouble. I don’t think If would have figured out how to han-% die the fireplace if I hadn’t read the ? instructions for that wood-burning stove. J
And I never w'ould have seen a genuine stovemover go through its tricks. i
Gerald S. Hawkins lives outside1 1 Woodville. In addition to his occa- ' sional musings on life in the coun- '• try, Dr. Hawkins is an internationally-acclaimed author and astronomer, whose books in- <•' elude “Stonehenge Decoded” and “Beyond Stonehenge." < i
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