The Persistence of the Wood-burning Stove

“The wood-burning stove allowed us a time of solace, a space where we could gather as a family and block out the world around us.”

by Katie Isler

With the pandemic roaring on, there was little to do in the months that made up the tail end of winter. March was a strain, and I was stuck in my family home, twiddling my thumbs, counting the days until I could drive back to the University of Vermont, where I was in my third year of college. Each night while I was home, my mom would drag my unwilling brother and me downstairs where the wood-burning stove lay unloved and cold. She filled it with planks of dried wood, the rich color and texture entering the incinerator only to disappear into nothing within seconds. The black metal box stayed sturdy, unaffected by the extreme heat building up on the inside. I prayed that the thing wouldn’t pop, sending embers flying all over the house, chaos erupting.

Before the pandemic I saw the wood-burning stove as a big metal block that took up space in the corner. I neglected it, never giving it the respect it deserved. It was my mother who romanticized it, pleading with us to “just sit with her for a little while” while she warmed up before bed.

During the months of lockdown her pleading ceased, as my brother and I gave in to her unforgiving persistence.

Sitting around the fire we wouldn’t talk much, as we’re a quiet family, but the dogs joined us, sprawling out on the stone floor inches away from the sizzling stove. The glass on the front of the stove was covered in an opaque wash of black grit. Only a tiny window remained where you could see through to the roaring flames.

As my mom opened the vent at its belly, air would rush in, sending the fire whipping around in a craze. No TV was on or phones were used; the flame was entertainment enough. Only the occasional addition of music would blanket us. The wood-burning stove allowed us a time of solace, a space where we could gather as a family and block out the world around us.

The making of a fire is a sacred act. Fireplaces, fire pits, wood-burning stoves — they all draw people together in a ritualistic practice. Everyone encircles the flame, giving it sustenance and energy as they eat, drink, talk. We lent to this ritual in our own way, using it as a time to be with each other during an extremely tumultuous time.

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Still Processing is a collection of work from the participants of the two-week 2021 Design Writing & Research Summer Intensive at the School of Visual Arts. For more information about our Summer Intensive as well as our two-semester Master’s program, please visit our website or email us at designresearch@sva.edu