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Preparing Winter Warmth, Vermont Style (LL, Ch. 3)
It’s October in Vermont, and I’m waiting for twenty bales of straw to be delivered. No, not for gardening, but for warmth. I’ll explain.
My childhood state of New Jersey gets a bad rap from people who don’t explore it — they know its crowded Turnpike and Parkway, the gritty waterfront cities built to service long-distance shipping, and maybe the rough-voiced songs of Bruce Springsteen, “The Boss.”
Because my father loved long hikes (and was willing to give rides on his shoulders if we got tired) and my mother adored the intricate planning of family camping vacations, I knew another side of the Garden State. So when R announced in huge excitement that he’d found us a rental at the edge of Stokes State Forest, in the very rural mountains of northwestern New Jersey, I jumped with him into our idea of an ideal writing cabin, complete with gas stove, fireplace, and adjacent acreage where he could try out his new hunting bow and arrows.
Around the time he finally shot a young buck, just before Thanksgiving 1977, the cinderblock structure began to reveal its lack of insulation. In fact, the owner had never used it in winter. Huge amounts of our pieced-together income went to having propane fuel tanks refilled, to take the edge of the early-snow cold.