How is it that the things we love and enjoy so much in our lives can also be things we detest most intensely at times? For example: our woodstove. delightfully warm & cosy. dried out our chilled winter clothes, wet things from the rain, soggy toddler pants, laundry that cannot go in the drier. makes our house pleasantly welcoming when you come in the door. cutting, stacking & hauling in the wood is a refreshing exercise. physically invigorating, emotionally cleansing, repetitive labor is a wonderful thing, especially when done in the fresh, crisp, outdoor air of autumn or winter.

how then, can I hate so much about it? The smoke, so pleasant, homey, comforting - makes a mess in the house, and is terrible for our health. The heat dries the house so much that there are nights when I wake unable to breathe, with no moisture left in my nose, or mouth, or throat. The wood chips, bark, dirt, leaves, ashes that surround the stove and make a path from the woodpile, through the house...

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