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Show ipK eanim by Nan Chalat Caving in to creature comforts There is no use trying to keep this from you. We have moved to a house with a thermostat. I hope you are not disappointed. After three winters of relying on wood and coal heat I have given in to Mountain Fiel. The new house also has storm windows, a TV antenna, a garage and TWO electrical outlets in the living room! Of course there is also a chimney and our faithful King Box Heater is in place. But to be honest we have not been in a hurry to hook up the stove pipe. For the moment we are luxuriating in central heat, at least until our first gas bill (gasp) arrives. So far I have no regrets about leaving our old house. It served us well but there were signs that it was time to leave. The front porch was sagging, the driveway had a permanent set of wagon ruts down the center and by Dec. 1 we had already burned a third of our winter wood supply. A friend leaned on the gate post and told us he was sorry we were leaving because the heat leaking out of our uninsulated parlor warmed his house half an acre down the road. Ha ha. There were plenty of nostalgic moments as we packed up three year's accumulation of possessions. At dawn, the morning before we left, Timpanogos glowed in the distance and the horses in the corral looked dolefully over the fence as if we were deserting them. I took a last look at the garden and considered digging up a few bulbs. In the end, though, I left them for the enjoyment of future tenants. Now, lest you think that I have completely given in to creeping urbanism, let me reassure you that certain things have not changed. Our new home is located on a street named Cow Alley. No kidding. The front walk bridges a small irrigation ditch and the back yard looks out over our neighbor's pasture. This morning, a huge Holstein stood at the front gate peering into our window in an unabashed attempt to check out the new kids on the block. At the entrance to Cow Alley two matching Clydesdales preside over a wood fenced corral. Last week it was so cold their breath froze on their chin whiskers as they watched our comings and goings with interest. The end of Cow Alley peters out into a dirt lane which trails along into the west hills. Most of our neighbors are ranchers and every now and then the wind carries the smell of freshly baled hay. Cow Alley is just a stone's throw from the river. Last weekend I walked to the end of the street and turned down Millrace Road past the river bridge and out into the open fields. If the snow hadn't been so bright I would have been able to see our old house but all that white (and perhaps the memories) made my eyes bum. It is sad to think of that big old house standing cold and vacant this winter. We did our best to warm it up but I was happy to turn back toward Cow Alley where the hum of a furnace greeted me as soon as I opened the front door. |