Mist’s Missing Christmas Tree

Mist was fine yesterday, the day the Christmas Tree went out the window. She did not seem to notice it was gone. This morning the cold light of reality dawned. Mist has been attempting to lead us over to the spot where the Christmas Tree stood, once she has our attention she will yowl at the top of her lungs. She is not amused. Apparently that tree belonged to her. We had no right to remove it. Mist is in mourning for the Christmas Tree.

To alleviate Mist’s distress, I filled a mug with water and placed it under the plant stand that sits close to the former location of the Christmas Tree. Mist immediately found it, and the yowling stopped. Distraction worked, for now at least.

After taking out the tree, we filled the space with Attila’s Great Grandfather’s “desk”. We placed it on our existing filing cabinets, and it makes a perfect work centre. My personal bonus is that it is the correct height for standing to use the laptop. There is an electrical outlet nearby.

This “desk” sat on the store counter in Attila’s Great Grandfather’s store, which was in Saginaw, Michigan. It has great sentimental value for Attila, and I love it because it is beautiful and functional at the same time.
DSCF4855 Attila desk

December and January were bitterly cold, and most days required three firings in the masonry heater. As well, frequent firings of the little cast iron wood stove in the basement were required. Yesterday I asked Attila how our firewood supply was lasting. “Two thirds gone,” he told me. That did not sound good, we have two months of winter heating left this season. The real shock was seeing exactly what Attila meant by “two thirds gone.” Out of the six rows of firewood in the woodshed, one complete row is left, and almost another whole row is dismantled and scattered in the shed. It looks very empty!

We have another wood pile in the yard, covered with copious amounts of snow. There will be some digging and serious snow removal going on in the back yard over the next few weeks!

Worldly Distractions


Date: 6:13 PM EST Monday 3 February 2014
Condition: Cloudy
Pressure: 102.8 kPa
Visibility: 16 km
Temperature: -10.5°C
Dewpoint: -14.2°C
Humidity: 75%
Wind: NW 5 km/h
Wind Chill: -14


“An idealist is one who, on noticing that a rose smells better than a cabbage, concludes that it will also make better soup.”
H. L. Mencken
1880 – 1956

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Reenie Beanie

I just left a comment at your previous post – and am still thawing from the chill of the weather you described. I’m enjoying the additions of photos. To see polished wooden floors and a lamp activated by electricity and a telephone… well, every time you write about firing up the masonry heater, I picture you all living in a mud-daubed hut (albeit, a very nice mud-daubed hut). I’m absolutely over-the-moon fascinated by your daily routines, which you consider ordinary. Packing a granola bar for a hike is my idea of roughing it. You guys are SO COOL!

Reenie Beanie

I meant to mention the desk – fabulous!


Poor Mist! All changes seem to be hard for an aging kitty. At least her water habits are coming in useful. Then again, you may find yourself being told to deliver that water, in the same mug, at the same place, at the same time, on a daily basis. And yes, I have been bossed by a kitty or two over the years. The first one stayed with me for almost 23 years and he trained me properly.


It’s just that animals are outdoors-loving creatures and any kind of outdoor plant/tree brings them to their original spirit. Imagine the lovely smells that emanate from a pine tree inside the house! To a cat or dog it’s probably nirvana. Our dogs do the same type of leading us around to do what they want us to do. I go into the kitchen in the morning to make my cuppa and Kip is standing beside me and when our eyes meet, he points is long nose in the direction of the cookie jar and his eyes also dart over in that direction. I smile at him, he does it again and again until I relent and go over to get them their mid morning cookie bone. After that they are happy for a few hours, until it’s time for their noontime cookie… then it starts all over again. They are so precious.