Hot Cross Buns

When the cold weather sets in, the wood stove becomes the center of attention. All summer long we gather wood: haul, chop, stack, repeat. It’s a long, exhausting process. It’s summer and I want to play. But noooooo - I’m stacking endless piles of wood.

“Dad, that’s enough wood for the winter isn’t it?” I whine after what seemed like my 112th load to the shed.

“Tell you what Andee, as long as we leave your bedroom door shut all winter, we should be just fine.”

I go get another load, shoulders drooping, cause no way am I keeping my door shut during the cold winter months. The only heat source is that stove. No amount of Grandma McDonald’s handmade quilts keeps that much cold out.

The wood shed is 12x12 and looks small, that is until we start filling it. Then it’s a vast cave. Dad says it holds about 10 cord of wood. Fingers crossed, that will get us through to warmer weather. Once the wood shed is finally stuffed clean to the rafters, then we are set for the cold to come.

The wood box in the house needs filled several times a day. I try to remember to do it, but for the most part it’s dad or the boys filling it. I get super distracted cause my favorite shows are on TV, or I’m busy listening to Patsy Cline and Tom T.Hall on the record player. When I see him driving up the lane, I’ll run out and grab a few armfuls before he gets to the house. I time it so that he sees me with an armful walking into the house. He grins at me with his crooked smile and I feel so important.

Every night before bed dad stuffs the stove full to keep us all warm during the night. I watch him from my bedroom which is the closest one to the stove, thank goodness. But that also means I wake to the sound of “Bang, creeeaakkkk, crinkle, crinkle, crinkle, slam, slam.” Must be 5:00 am and dad’s getting the fire going again. The house has gotten bitter cold and I’ve pulled all my covers up over my head. Hopefully there are embers left, but most of the time no such luck. He crinkles up newspaper as the base then adds kindling and finally some smaller pieces of wood to get it going. Once it’s roaring dad tamps it down then gets the coffee going. The sound of fire crackling helps me fall back asleep. I get at least two more hours of sleep before I have to get up.

Wood stoves are not just for keeping the house warm. They’re great clothes dryers. Accordion style wood racks constantly filled. Always two racks and a constant rotation of clothes. I don’t know how come we never get to the bottom of that pile of clothes, but we never, ever do. Someday, we will be all fancy like everyone else. Someday.

Mom always has a pot of beans simmering on one side of the stove. She refills it with beans, water, and ham or bacon as needed. There ain’t nothin’ like a bowl of those beans when the bread comes out of the oven. Slap on some fresh creamy butter mom made, and oh man! Next to the bean pot is the cast iron tea kettle filled several times daily adding moisture to the dry air that comes with wood heat.

The hot metal is also a great rag warmer for my chronic ear infections. I don’t go to the doctor for those. Mom gives me aspirin and I stay close to the stove to heat up a rag. Putting the warmth on my throbbing ear is blissful pain relief.

As a bun warmer it is exceptional. When I come in from playing in the snow, I get all my wet clothes off, hang them on the clothes rack and change into my jammies. I sidle up to that wood stove and let my body begin to thaw. Dad always warns me, “Don’t get too close or you’ll have hot crossed buns.” No matter how many times he tells me that, he always laughs.Sometimes he’s like a two year old. Cause it’s soooooo funny saying “buns”. Oh dad. At one time or another I’ve not only burned my buns but my shins, calves, fingers and thighs. All victims of trying to get as close as possible to that glorious warmth. A small price to pay because there is nothing else that warms me to the core like a roaring wood stove fire.