The woodpile

If "getting your moose" defines fall in the Klondike, then "getting in your wood" certainly defines winter. Whether you have your own woodlot and cut it yourself, or (like us) you order it from one of the commercial woodcutters in the area; whether you prefer birch or spruce, fire-kill or clean, bucked or bucking it yourself, getting in a few cords of wood is hugely important around here. So many of us at least partially heat our homes with wood heat. Here on the Dempster, it's our only source of heat, and our woodpile is looking mighty fine these days.

We order our wood from a guy named Doug. We've spent the last couple of days bucking (cutting the logs to stove length with a chainsaw), splitting and stacking several cords of wood. It feels good to see all those neatly stacked logs: it is a warm, secure feeling. 

These Days

If I actually sat down and wrote all of the blog posts that occurred to me, well, I guess I'd have a more active blog! Instead, I tend to pass out at 8 every night, wedged between a baby and a toddler. It's a thrilling existence, let me tell ya.

We've been having beautiful weather these past few weeks. It's still cold at night, -25 or so, but it warms up with the sun. It's usually around 0 by mid afternoon. We get outside then to soak up the day. The snow has come off  the roof completely in some places, and is taking its time in others. This past week I've noticed little flocks of snow buntings at the roadsides...they usually pass through this time of year. I've even seen the catkins beginning to grow on the willows! I'm hoping this gradual spring continues, because I'm really loving it.

We've been dealing with a very itchy-headed baby lately, and it's been at its worst this week. The doctor's keep calling it cradle cap, but I'm convinced it's eczema. The skin became infected, and after trying a few home remedies, I caved and Colm is now on a course of antibiotics. The infected skin is looking much better, but his head is still red, rashy, dry and itchy. I hope once winter passes and the woodstoves burn out for the last time, it will clear. It's hard for me to take pictures of Colm, but I don't want to miss documenting this time in his life, so I force myself to do it. Looking through photos from Ontario to now, I can really see it progressing. I hope we're on the downside!

Aside from itching a lot, Colm has started rolling over! He's also begun to babble, and he's just the cutest thing since Aedan! I love this rollie-pollie, pudgy-baby, not-yet-mobile stage!

Aedan is a real challenge. He "helps" me a lot, which is cute. But he's so physical. When he gets excited at our playgroup, he'll push kids down, hit them in the face, pull hair...the other moms reassure me it's developmentally normal,and I know it is, but it's hard to parent him right now. We're working on showing him appropriate ways to play. I try to focus on his sweeter times, when he's giving kisses or hugs or snuggling up to me in bed (though that last also drives me crazy!) I'm eager for this phase to pass.

Aedan and his whale "helping" me do dishes. 

Today

Today began in darkness, as every day does. We sat in our usual places in the living room, and we poured out our misery like the morning coffee. "I'm not having any fun."  "I feel so overwhelmed."  "I wish we were somewhere else." 

And then, as the sun rose, the bad moods lifted. It's amazing how the simple act of giving voice to our unhappiness can dispel it. 

"Lily!!"

I got a pot of roasted butternut squash soup simmering on the stove. I managed to get myself and the little ones outside for a half hour, and then back in for hot chocolate and lunch. Then it was nap time and a good phone call to my mom. P got home from doing some work in the office, and we all went outside again, this time to burn some brush.

We had the soup for dinner, and then the boys each had a bath, with only minimal crying from Aedan. He went to sleep easily, as he has been lately, and Colm is asleep now in my lap as I type this. The candles have all burned down, there is jazz and Tim Tam on the CBC. I'll tuck this day away in my back pocket, and remember it on a day that doesn't feel so smooth and rhythmic....

But I hope they become more like this!

Goodbye January, Hello Nicaragua

I must admit, January has not been my favourite month. There have been moments of joy and beauty:

a warm afternoon with the sun bright in the sky, the wind blowing swirls of snow off the trees;

a cheery bonfire in the yard while Aedan chases the dogs up and down the shoveled walkway;

and my favourite, a Saturday morning, the house filled with golden sunlight, the wood stove keeping us warm, dancing around to the Beatles with the babe in my arms.

But this month we watched my good friend's dog, Suzie, die. We've been caring for her while my friend is away. Suzie stopped eating, and about 10 days later, she passed peacefully in her sleep. I was able to sit with her and comfort her through the worst of it that night. It is never easy to see a beloved animal die; it is harder still to see another's animal out of this life. She was a good old girl, and didn't seem to be suffering. I suspect it was just her time. I wish she could have had her own mama at the end, but I hope I was familiar enough to her.

There have been some downright frigid spells this month, with lows of -50 C at night. These temperatures guarantee crisp, clear days...which are spent indoors. The rest of the time, it's been fairly mild. January has brought a few feet of snow and day after day of grey skies. I'm tired of the monotone....

Sunday we set out on an adventure: we are headed to Nicaragua for 3 weeks! We are so looking forward to sunshine, bare feet and shoulders, swimming, fresh fruit, foods we've never tasted before, a new language, culture, history and landscape.

I'll be in touch, friends!




Rest in peace, Suzie-girl.

On the other hand...

Some days are just beautiful.

Like yesterday: the clouds cleared off at dawn, and we were treated to a lovely, slow sunrise, the wisps of cloud still trailing across the sky blushing pink. The sun finally burst over the hills around 10:30, and oh my did we enjoy the afternoon.

After lunch we all spent a couple of hours in the yard, P shoveling snow off the roof, Aedan chasing the dogs and throwing himself backwards in the snow, Mama taking some photos.

The wind was blowing the snow off the trees; we've had so much over the last couple of days, about a foot!

My Tuesday night yoga classes started up again last night, too, and that was just wonderful. I feel strong and grounded today, my body back in balance...

well, except for the leftover berry crumble I ate for breakfast this morning. That wasn't a good idea.

January Blues

January has caught up to me, burying me in an avalanche of monochrome sky. It fills my eyesearsnosemouthlungs with cold and dark; I choke on it, gasping for warm breath.

It smothers each tree, each branch and twig. Every twisted strand of lichen, each spruce needle, each dried out stalk of grass that has managed to keep its head up: weighted heavy with snow.

Each day is flat, grey, sunless. The trees offer a suggestion of green that is more black than anything, their trunks a pale brown. That is the only relief in this drear month.

I long for colour and light. Gaudy-plumed tropical birds calling raucously from trees in every shade of green, trees sporting blooms of red, purple, yellow, orange. I long for skies that scream blue, and puffy white clouds  and an ocean that glitters in the ever-deepening gradient of the Caribbean. 

I hunger for fresh fruit, juicy and ripe bursting between my teeth, flooding my mouth with stored up sunlight instead of this tiresome weight of snow and ice and dark 

dark 

dark.

I forgot what January was like. I seem to forget each year until it hits me like this.

3 weeks until Nicaragua: an orgy of light and colour and fresh fruit and oh my. Swimming and bare shoulders and bare feet. At least I've got this to move toward!

Hello, sunshine!

January got off to a very grey start, and it was making everyone in this house grey, too. We're all rejoicing to see clear blue skies and some bright sunshine peeking through! We've even got some direct sun on the walls, and little drops of rainbow cast by the prisms in the windows.

Journey Outside and Back

The past 10 days feel more like 30. From knowing we would have to make a dash to Ontario, to doing it and being there, and back again: it's gone by so fast, and yet seemed like forever.

Each time we make the journey Outside (of the Yukon, that is), I am struck by just how remote we are here. As we speed along the winding highway carved out of a vast boreal forest, sometimes seeing nothing else moving but grouse for hours, I can't help but reflect on what this journey would have meant a mere 60 years ago. In winter, it would have meant more than a week on a dogsled, food packed for dogs and people alike, first aid kits, an ax, and your luggage; nights in little log-cabin roadhouses or canvas tents pitched under the flickering aurora. In short, this is not a trip one would have made lightly.

I am grateful that we can answer the call of family, that we are able to make it out of here with relative ease when we are needed. We take these things for granted: pick-up trucks with block heaters, paved highways and government crews to maintain them.

Thankfully, all is well back east.

Our drive home yesterday was mostly uneventful: while P and Aedan both slept, I slowed the truck as we passed a pair of elk at the forest's edge. A little further down the road, we bumped over a glacier that had appeared across the highway in the week since we'd made the trip down. It was a colour of blue that is curiously common only to thick, glacial ice and the Caribbean sea.

We arrived to find the house in a state, though...the housesitter had caught a whiff of propane (the pilot light had gone out on the propane fridge, but she didn't realize this) so she'd cracked open a door and then forgot about said cracked door...it was -10 C in here. The 3 jugs of water she'd left us were frozen solid, as was all of the food in the cupboards. The food in the freezer, however, was all thawed, because the pilot light went out. It was not a nice homecoming. It took about 4 hours to raise the temperature 20 degrees.

In the face of things like this, I count our blessings. A safe drive home. A fire that was still going (it could have been much colder inside if not for that). Groceries brought from Whitehorse. An incredibly adaptable baby who thought it was fun to toddle around the house in his parka.

The house is toasty now, we've opened our stockings and had blueberry pancakes for breakfast, using the last of the blueberries I harvested at summer's end.

It's good to be home, to slip back into the rhythm of my days.

A Little Blue

Each day grows shorter; we spend more time in darkness than in the light. I find myself drawing inwards, my mind filled with projects and ideas for the coming months. I'm finding it difficult to extend myself outward, and I suppose that's been reflected in my infrequent trips to town, and my silence in this space.

I'm looking forward to the solstice, but I am a little sad this year, too. We'll be travelling, making an unexpected short trip to Ontario. I try to focus on the reason for this trip: being with family in a time of need. We didn't have any big plans for celebration here, for the solstice or for Christmas, but I am eager to begin our own traditions. I feel like that will be put off for another year. Oh well...

Que sera, sera.

These days...

These days have been about staying warm. November ended on a chilly note, with lows of -44 C at night and "highs" of around -37 C for the few brief hours the sun is in the sky.

We had seemingly unending issues with our power supply, and both our main and backup generators made numerous trips to the mechanic. This made for some dark mornings, the house filled with flickering candle light, and a little time away from the computer. I quite enjoyed that respite. With a bit of ingenuity on P's part, I think we've got things sorted out and we're ready for the next cold spell.

Through that time I was so grateful that we weren't also dealing with frozen fuel lines (and therefore no heat) or frozen drain pipes, like so many of our friends in town. Our water never stops flowing from the blessed blue jugs, and our woodstove is always crackling warm.

The cold, clear skies began to cloud over two days ago, and today it is grey and warm, with a very light snowfall dusting over our tracks in the yard. I'm glad to have a break from the 40's...it is a cold that takes your breath away.

These twilight shrouded days, I find myself seeking light wherever I can. I find myself noticing the weak patches of sunlight that briefly shine through the windows, casting shapes and shadows onto the walls. I light candles in all the dark corners where the few electric lights don't reach, taking solace in this nightly ritual (which happens a little earlier each day). I look forward to the winter solstice, when we celebrate the return of the sun and the days gradually lengthening again.

Simple Pleasures

The house is quiet; the babe has finally settled down for a nap. I hurry outside, gathering an armload of wood as the sun slips behind the hills, signalling an end to our brief days.

I stoke up the fire, and fill the chipped enamel basin with hot water from the kettle on the stove. I light candles on the washstand and strip off the layers of sweaters and knit shirts that are like a second skin I seem never to be free of these days. I bend my head over the basin, dip my cup into the clear water and pour it out over my hair. I dip and pour like this, soaking my hair and enjoying the sensations. I scrub my itchy scalp, water dripping down my forehead, over my shoulders and down my back.

I wrap my wet hair in a towel and carry the basin over to the couch before the fire. It is cold outside but I am warm, wearing a fresh pair of long underwear, pulled up at the ankles. I ease my feet into the water, clouded now with spent soap suds. I relax back into the cushions, watching the flames that fill the stove, consuming the wood I've just brought in. My feet are blissfully bare, tingling. I wiggle my toes, happy toes free of socks and slippers.

My hair curls as it dries in the heat of the fire and the last of the twilight fades from the room.

Snapping Cold

That's how JJ Van Bibber describes this weather, in his book "I was born under a spruce tree" (which I'm reading now and loving).

Dawson is one of the coldest places on earth today!

Cold like this usually comes with clear, bright skies and sunshine; it's a nice trade off. But today it's a bit overcast: the sky is a patchwork of muted blue and white.

This morning, though, when I went to the outhouse around 7 am, was stunning. The stars were sharp, glittering points of light in the dark. I could see the Pleiades to the east, and a couple of incredibly bright stars (planets?) low on the horizon. A very faint aurora streaked across the sky. I stopped on the path to take it all in, shifting from slippered food to slippered foot, feeling the dry, cold air tingling in my sinuses.

It brings its problems, this cold, particularly living off grid like we do. Vehicles should be plugged in to start safely, but to do that we need to start up a generator first. Well, the generator wouldn't start this morning. P got his truck started anyway, though it wasn't easy. We've got a torch set beneath the generator now: hopefully it'll warm its insides enough start later today. We'll probably leave it running until things warm up above 30.

We'll be inside today, keeping our toes warm by the wood stove. I hope you're warm where ever you are today, too!

Snow!

Over the last few days we've had quite a bit of snow. It's still snowing now as I type this post. It's a grey day, and it's been spent mostly indoors.

Yesterday, though, the snow stopped falling for the afternoon and it was just right for snowshoeing (and later, snow shovelling!)

I packed Aedan into my amauti (no tears this time!), strapped on my snowshoes, and away we went into the woods.

The closest I've got to a full length mirror...












Aedan got to do some exploring on his own!


Funny face!


Hanging with the dogs in the nicely shoveled walkway!

Hope you're enjoying your winter, whatever it may look like!

Baby-wearing at 30 below

I love walking in the woods around our home. We have trails going in either direction from the property. They meander through the spruce and aspen, bordered by carpets of bear-berry and creeping twin flower in the summer months. The rest of the year, as the snow grows deep and deeper, I like to strap on my snowshoes and carve out my own trail, alongside those of snowshoe hares, squirrels and grouse. 

Having a tiny baby to take out with me has presented a bit of a problem. Throughout my pregnancy, I dreamed of sharing my love of the natural world with my child. And right now, baby-wearing is the way to go. I can watch his face as he takes in the sights, and tuck his head a little closer to my chest when he nods off. Plus, taking a stroller on a forest trail is pretty much impossible! 

But how do I safely wear my baby out at 20 or 30 below zero? 

Still warm out in late September

It's a real quandry I've been in since the onset of the cold season. In the late Autumn, I'd snuggle him into the Moby wrap and button one of P's quilted flannel jackets around us. Shared body heat is pretty amazing for keeping us both warm, and on days warmer than minus 20, this is the way to go.

What about a day like today, when our high is about -33? I know I can keep Aedan's core warm, but what about his little face, peeking out of my coat to gaze at all the snow? I've tried a couple things: wearing a big fluffy scarf myself, or cutting up a pair of old merino-silk long underwear to make a little neck warmer. For whatever reason, these didn't work too well. I've thought about rubbing thick fat or grease on his face, like I've been told Inuit ladies did with their babies. But I  don't think the clean-up job would be worth it!

A little colder in November!

Today, I think I finally hit on the solution. I dress Aedan in a fleece sleeper, and then a lightly lined, hooded snowsuit. I put on a hat, and pull the hood up. Lately I've been going with our Ergo carrier. It's so much easier to get him in there with all the winter layers! Then, I fold up a fleece receiving blanket and tuck it loosely across the lower half of his face and down into the back of the carrier. It works perfectly! He can still see out, and I'm not so worried about his delicate, brand-new skin getting frost-bitten.

What about me? I wear a couple light layers of merino wool, and then I zip us both into an old army surplus parka. Having a baby on your chest is like your own little portable heater!

 This way, we can both comfortably enjoy a walk in the woods with the dogs, without being too cold or overheating!

How do you (or did you) dress your baby to deal with cold temperatures?

Forty Below...continued...

Forty below isn't all fun and games, square tires and squeaky snow. It really wears on a girl. The thermometer has made it above 40 twice in the past week, and I've made it further than the outhouse exactly as many times in as many days. 

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going a bit crazy. 

P has had to spend lots of time in town, because the hotel/bar that he owns is old and not very well equipped for these temperatures. There have been pipes freezing and fuses blowing on a daily basis. So while he heads in to keep the business from imploding, I'm left out here, keeping the fire stoked and the baby entertained.

In my experience up here, it doesn't matter what kind of heat source you've got, nor what kind of abode you call home, 40 below makes for a cold house. It's hard to fully relax in this weather, always tensed against the chill air creeping along the floors, the outside walls, the windowsills. Cold waits for me in my bed between the sheets. It sneaks into the house on the backs of the dogs, hiding in their fur and rolling off them in waves. It finds a way. It's wily, that cold...

"They" say it's supposed to warm up by Monday or Tuesday. And by warm up, I mean to 30 below. 

After a week (or more) at 40, you'd be surprised how balmy minus 30 can feel.

Forty Below

At forty below, things get a bit strange.

Trees in the forest crack like rifle shots. The snow squeaks like pieces of styrofoam rubbed together. Your car makes funny sounds, too, and shifting gears becomes quite difficult. Throw a cup of boiling water into the air, and it freezes before it hits the ground as tinkling drops of ice. 

Out here on the Dempster, the sky is absolutely clear, blue and cloudless. The sun is brilliant and not at all warming. 

In town, I imagine the ice fog hangs low and thick, the sunlight muted (and still not warming).

The day will be spent indoors, playing with babe and dogs, reading, napping, cooking (braised short ribs for dinner!), keeping the fire stoked, dreaming of spring...

Here Comes the Sun

Sun! Yesterday we saw the first few patches of sunlight shining in on the walls.

Today, we all bundled up against the 30 below cold, and went out for a walk to soak up the rays. The sun is up over the hills, at least briefly, and the tree tops are all illuminated in its light. We'd pause wherever it broke through the forest, and stand with our faces upturned.

P exclaimed: "I feel like I'm gettin' a tan!"

In town right now, the sun shines on top of the Dome and the surrounding hills, but direct sunlight won't hit the streets or peek through windows for another couple of weeks.

It's amazing how we northerners come to celebrate the sun like this. I guess I always took it for granted, growing up in Ontario. Here, we celebrate the summer solstice with a big party on the Dome (a tradition since the gold rush days. Laura Berton talks about it in her book "I Married the Klondike"). Winter solstice is usually celebrated on a more intimate scale, but celebrated nonetheless. And when you first see direct sunlight again, sometime in January, you run around town telling anyone who'll listen!

When do you notice the shorter days where you live? When do you first start to see the days lengthen?

"Hello Darkness My Old Friend"

I find myself struggling a bit with this winter. It might be because we didn't have all that great of a summer. This winter has been relatively mild, which is great for getting out of the house, but that also means lots of grey skies. I'd take a few days of 30 below with clear blue skies, please.

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Of course, it doesn't help that Aedan's been waking up at 5 am these days. That means sitting around for 6 hours before the sky lightens. It makes for a very long, very dark day. I miss being able to sleep in til 9 or 10...that way, sun rise is only a cup of tea (or two) away. We're in the thick of it, though, and I know that it's only going to get better from here on out. Soon, the days will be getting noticeably longer, the sun rising earlier and earlier...

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This last photo is a spruce grouse, in a tree in our yard. There were four of them in there this afternoon. I really love grouse, they seem like such gentle birds, with their soft clucking calls. It always surprises me to see them in flight. Their small wings are powerful, carrying their plump bodies to safety when saucy little dogs named Cilla chase after them in the woods!