I’ve been trying to avoid having to light a fire in the woodstove. Lighting a fire means carrying in wood, and with a recovering toe, a sore back, and an absent wife, I don’t want to carry firewood. I managed to convince myself that 55 degrees isn’t so bad. Just put on a sweater, some wool socks, it’s fine. However. This morning when I came downstairs and saw that the INDOOR temperature is 50.4 degrees, I capitulated. There is a lovely fire going in our woodstove. The animals are all deeply grateful, and so am I.