I fell in love with our wood-burning stove. I named her Esther immediately after meeting her the first time. She is an 1800s cast iron wood stove with nickel adornments and windows made from thin layers of mica, allowing the light to come through in a warm glow. The ash box has these amazing dials to allow for airflow and look like the radiation symbols. When the glowing embers fall into the bottom, you can see the glowing light cast out across the floor.

When Mark and I first moved into this house, things were extremely tight financially - and buying firewood wasn’t an option. We had a few fires when we could get a few bundles at the convenience store, but even then we realized she was the heart of what would become our home.

We started keeping at least 2 cords of wood each winter to have a fire every night, and then we started using her as the primary means of heating the house. The woodpile grew, and we’ve maintained about 3 1/2 cords of wood each winter, depending on how cold or warm it is. We always make sure to keep Esther fed and happy, and she keeps us warm. It’s funny when an object truly becomes a part of your family.

On January 6th, we received word that our landlord is selling the house. I don’t think I’ve been this blindsided in a long time. My heart, already shattered from wear and tear, is really raw.

Esther.

Each day the woodpile disappears as we countdown our departure. All I can think about is what will happen to Esther. And the yellow roses on the side of the house - thousands of them bloom there secretly in the spring. This haven of brambles for our family of birds, yes they’ve become family too, and the squirrels, and not to mention the deer. They come to the yard for corn when the snow has been on the grass too long and they’re hungry. They know we’ll help them out and they bring their babies back year after year… only when they need it.

What will happen to our family?