Between Chaos and Quiet
Fall snuck up on us. We’ve been balls-to-the-walls up here since the second we stepped foot on the property in early July, then a drought has kept the land stressed for the entire back half of the summer, and finally we had a very cold week at the beginning of this month. I think all of those factors came together to cool the waters and turn the trees pretty much overnight. Honestly, one day we were swimming in an 80-degree pool, and the next we awoke to a 38-degree morning: woodsmoke in the air and shadows stretching longer across the grass. The maples are turning, and the air is already sharp enough to remind me of what’s coming.
The house feels different too. We’re wearing sweaters inside, and a faint woodsmoke smell comes through the chimneys in the morning, even when we haven’t lit fires. Things creak that didn’t creak before, and we’ve moved some furniture just a little bit closer to the fireplaces. Throws, drapes, and blankets strategically located all make more sense aesthetically than they did when we were trying to keep the heat out. I’m cleaning the windows and getting ready to put the storms back up.
My biggest project, which I’m not even sure is going to be possible, is to replace one of our oil furnaces. We have four but only use two for heating. There’s a monster sized unit… 220k BTU… which heats the entire downstairs and all four upstairs bedrooms. That one is reasonably efficient and doesn’t seem to need anything. The other furnace, though, an ancient 130k BTU unit that heats the upstairs bedrooms and common space, is over two decades old, has a cracked heat exchanger, and is estimated to be running at about 50% efficiency. It needs to be replaced badly. I’m working up a plan to install it myself, but the local codes are a little tricky. This is a big one so I’ve got a Project page for it, and that page will be a work in progress for as long as the job is. For now, both the page and the job are in the planning stages.
Lily has settled in her new school, and I couldn’t be more glad about how she has integrated. She has made friends, seems to genuinely like her new environment, and we’ve had nothing but positive feedback from her new teachers and friends about her presence and energy. It’s quieter during the day at home, and I find myself noticing things I missed in summer’s noise… including but not limited to the faint scurrying in the walls (mice auditioning for winter residency) or the constant persistence of wasps and bees testing every seam in the clapboard. They know what season it is.
Out in the fields and gardens, everything is tired. The drought left plants gray-green and brittle, and even the weeds seem reluctant now. I don’t mow as often, partly because the grass barely grows, partly because the little lawn cart I hook up to it has been too busy hauling brush, firewood, and leaves. In terms of small purchases that go a long way, that $200 lawn cart has been an epic buy. I’ve moved countless yards of debris off the property with that thing.
Inside, we’re re-prioritizing with the changing seasons. I’m still patching plaster walls with hot mud and painting rooms, but once I’m done with the dining room and window mullions, the interior paint is going away until it’s too cold to work outside. Between now and then, my primary focus is shifting by necessity to exterior repair and painting. I’ve known about a number of areas that need sanding, patching, and repainting before winter, but watching the wasps has helped me understand that the work is more extensive than I had imagined. I’ve got my work cut out for me and have started mapping out what can actually be done versus what has to wait for spring.
This summer was chaotic, stretched thin by work, illnesses, emergencies, and the sheer overwhelm of landing here and trying to make sense of our new house and new life all at once. Now that the pace has slowed, I’m soaking in that fall feeling of anticipation. Fall is about gathering, bracing, and preparing. The work is steady and tangible, and each project feels like one more layer of insulation against the cold.
