Yesterday, September 27th, A. fired up the woodstove for the first time. I'm pretty sure this is the earliest date in Blackrock history that the woodstove has been put to use. But here's the thing--it was not cold yesterday. I should mention that at this time of year, the house is always colder than outside, so it wasn't quite as warm inside as it could have been. But it was not, by any standards, cold.
However, A. was convinced that he had caught a chill (it was my fault, of course, for putting on the window fan at night) and was going to get sick if he didn't take immediate action. So he put on his heaviest flannel shirt and sat by the roaring woodstove all afternoon, followed by several hot toddies.
Welcome to the tropics
So was it the hot fire or the hot brandy that warded off certain illness? Hard to say, but A. announced that he had sweated out his chill and would survive after all.
Thank God. He had us all worried.