Dirty and broken nails from carrying the wood in, a third-degree burns from brushing the stove door. Winter with a wood stove in Maine!
There's something really re-assuring, however, about raking the coals, loading the wood in, banging the door shut, and then hearing the stove begin to chuckle as the fire takes.
I am off to the state capital for a landfill thing, wearing the thermal underwear Riverdaughter advised me to buy for Occupy DC! So light posting from me until the evening. Talk amongst yourselves!