While I'm Away

Every year about this time, with the Christmas holidays over and spring still a long way off, I begin to hear talk in the family about such places as Mexico City, the Caribbean, and the Florida coast. Picture postcards sent by friends from town who are stopping at these resorts appear on the living-room mantel. The incomes of the friends’ fathers or husbands get a going into. Conclusions are drawn. It is noted how distinguished I would look in a white linen suit.

Now, these gate-wide hints and flattering circumlocutions are not by any means wasted. I, too, at this time of year begin to grow weary of sunless days, frigid nights, and limitless acres of snow. Unless we were gone quite long, I should like very much to take the family to one of those warmer zones. The fact that I don’t must make me seem stubborn or stingy. I should like to show myself in a better light, if I can.

The thing that would worry me most, if we went away in the winter, would be the water. Our water comes from a spring in a wooded hollow twelve hundred feet up the hill, and whoever put in the pipe did not have Mexico City, the Caribbean, or the Florida coast in his mind. He drove a furrow six inches deep and stuck the pipe in the bottom. On sub-zero nights, if the water stops running for more than a couple of hours, it stops until June. My most important chore before going to bed is to see that the tap in the kitchen sink is running a stream about the size of a pencil.

Since the water would have to be left running if we went away, there would be no feasible way of draining the toilet tanks, the hot-water boiler, or the plumbing out in the laundry. And anyhow, since, if we left the house cold, there would be problems with house plants and canned goods, the best thing to do would be to keep the house warm. Doing this, however, is also a problem.

Keeping a wood fire going is no great trouble if you are at home. The chimney or stovepipe may catch

fire if the drafts are forgotten, but closing them up slows the fire down, and keeping an eye on dangerous places precludes any serious trouble. But if the person I got to come in and look after the fires left when the trouble occurred, the whole place might burn. I would have to make sure he understood all about those drafts.

Whomever I got to come in and look after the fires would also have to water the house plants and move them back from the windows on very cold nights. The Christmas cactus, he should remember, is a desert plant and is not to be watered as freely as most of the others. On the other hand, the philodendron takes nearly a quart of water a day. This plant encircles both narrow windows in our front hall, runs through its special thimble into the dining room, and has nearly got around both front windows there. It is seven years old. Since it can’t be moved back from the windows, newspapers have to be slipped between it and them on very cold nights. I would hate to come back and find that something had happened to Philo.

With the house’s being heated, there would also arise the problem of what to do about the roof. Snow melts on the roof when the house is heated and runs down as far as the overhang, where it freezes again, building up a sort of ice dam, which holds further water back, so it leaks down the walls and onto the plaster and paper. To stop this, I attach a hose to the hot-water tap in the upstairs bathroom and melt channels through the ice dam by squirting hot water at it from the dormer windows. The person who takes care of the place would have to remember, too, to use the rubber hose — the water being hot — and not the plastic. I neglected to mention that, when tending the fires, he ought to be sure the kettles on top are well filled. It gets very dry in the house if this is not done, and the wallpaper cracks.

Two kettles boiling with the lids off are none too many to keep the humidity up.

There would also be hens to tend to. We keep only ten — plus two ducks, which I keep because I like to see them swimming around in our pond — so it’s hardly worthwhile to put on a new chicken-house roof. I have shored up the old one as best I can, but if snow accumulated on it and then it rained, the whole thing could collapse. What I do is to sweep it off every time it snows, but if whomever I got to come in and look after the place should forget a few times and have to use the shoved, he would tear the tar paper off in a dozen places. I would have to make sure he understood about that. Also, in very cold weather the hens’ water freezes solid and splits the pail if left overnight. He would have to empty the pail every evening. During the day, a spot of hot water from one of the kettles will keep it from freezing, all right.

And, speaking of freezing, and before I forget, if the pipes in the cellar should freeze, no harm would be done if they were thawed out right away. The ones which would give trouble would be the ones in the laundry ell, where there is no cellar.

To thaw these out, I have rigged up a handle for the gasoline blowtorch, so it will reach the pipes, and the flame can be played on the elbows — the most likely places. Whoever was looking after things would have to watch out for cobwebs and things, however, because there isn’t much room to get at a fire if one should start in that place. I would say to keep the water faucets running there, also; though if too much water was run from the spring and the spring got low, then air would get into the pipe and cause an air lock.

This would stop the water from running, and whoever was looking after the place would have to hurry and borrow a force pump from someone nearby and force the air out before the pipe froze. The best place to attach the pump is at the turnoff down cellar, but he would need a washtub of water there for this operation, and the water should be lugged up from the brook in a pail. Also, it is quite a trick getting the shutoff back on when the water is running again, because of its force.

The best way to do this would be to get help: someone to hold the fixture snug to the threads and someone to turn the wrench. Of course, before they could get the shutoff off in the first place, they would have to unscrew the union. They should be sure to stand facing the spring and turn counterclockwise. They would want to remember that, because minutes count when pipes are likely to freeze. And once the pipe from the spring is frozen, the jig is up. After we came back, there would be no water until the ground could be dug in the spring.

I suppose that, really, the best way to manage would be to get a young couple to stay right here in the house and look after things. There is a couple who might be willing to take the job, but the trouble is that they have children, one, three, four, and six years old. I would not want to go to Mexico City, the Caribbean, or the Florida coast leaving children like lhat in my house. There is an elderly couple we might be able to get, but he has rheumatism and might have a hard time with the barn chores. We only have one sheep, one cow, and a saddle horse in the barn, but the horse ought to be exercised and is rather frisky. Also, the man would have to shovel the mailbox clear every time it snowed, If this was not done, so that the mailman could reach the box from his car, he would just sit there and honk.

Perhaps the best thing would be to have the old couple in and get a boy from nearby to do the running around. Then the old man could supervise things and probably get them done more the way I want. What he would have to watch most about things in the barn would be the cow’s ration. We keep a cow because local milk is not pasteurized, and any that is would have to be brought in from town, quite a distance. Also, we like our own butter and cream. However, since we need only one cow, we have the problem of what to do for milk in the couple of months when the cow is dry. I have solved this problem by breeding the cow only every three, four, or even five years, instead of every year, as is customary. To do this, I make sure she gets the best of care and of food in the winter months, so she will not go dry. Her water has to be warmed a little so she will drink all she needs, and she has to be unhitched a good deal of the time so that she will be happy. On very cold nights, she needs to be put in a closed box stall with the radiant heater overhead plugged in. As the extension cord is not heavy-duty, the heater must not be turned past medium heat. The old man and the boy must be warned about that, and while on the matter of electric current, I ought to mention the freezer and what the old man should do if the current ever goes off.

So far, the electricity has never gone off for more than thirty-two hours. Hut if a hard blizzard knocked down the wires and they weren’t fixed for longer than that, then there could be serious trouble. By Christmas, most all our year’s meal and a good deal of homegrown fruit and garden produce are in the freezer. If they thawed out, it would be bad. The old couple would have to be told where to get dry ice and how, as a last resort, to get the things into the freezer locker ir town. If the roads were still blocked this would be with horses and sled These would have to be borrowed.

Here’s another thing; the steps that go to the cellar are pretty steep, and the treads are narrow. I have tried to figure a way of correcting this, but don’t see how it could be accomplished without redesigning the house. I suppose it would be worthwhile to take out some kind of insurance before we left, but that would not help the old couple if they fell down and broke their necks. The old couple would probably spend a good deal of time watching television. If, while they were, the boy came into the kitchen for a drink of water and forgot and turned off the tap, they might not discover this for a couple of hours. By that time, it might be too late. I would have to be sure they all understood about this.