It’s snowing and blowing and freezing cold outdoors,
God knows how long this storm might last.
Ol’ Jack Frost stares through the window and does his magic
on our kitchen window single pane glass.
The clothesline end is slapping the clapboard on the corner of our old saltbox home.
The old house, she creaks as the wind whistles and moans.

The road below us and around the cove has drifted in. Probably worse in the Droke and on Carl’s Hill.
Sam and his grader won’t be able to clear it this time, a job for Inkpen’s dozer, I’d say, for real.
Outside, not fit for person or beast, but inside it’s cozy warm and all at peace, that is so.
The wood cupboard is chock full right to the brim, Dad has even got splits and shavings ready to go.
A good fire is burning in the belly of our old stove called Enterprise.
The kettle is whistling on her front lid, on her top oven loaves of bread are on the rise.

Mom is in her chair knitting some wool socks, the needles just a blur as she hums while she rocks.
Sisters are at the table, cutting up old clothes scraps, they will be used later to make new colourful poke mats.
Dad is in the pantry, he’s knitting as well, but a different thing, he is making a new piece for the cod trap, next spring.
Brother tries hard to keep his needles full, from a new ball of twine
But our ol’ grey cat named Tom has something more fun in mind.
Me, I’m on a chair warming my toes on the opened oven door
Diver, our faithful ol’ water dog, is chewing on his bone beside me on the floor.

Well, to produce all the heat, b’ys, that stove had to eat… and eat she sure could.
Oh, she would get the odd knob of coal from under our front porch, but her main diet was wood
Cut in by Mark’s Brook or maybe Clotties Pond,
And then in the wintertime hauled home by our horse, ol’ Bon.

We could not have survived without that old Enterprise stove, she was quite an invention.
All the good things she did for us are too numerous to mention.
She baked our bread, cooked our harvest from the sea,
She heated our wash water in her reservoir and boiled the kettle for our cup of tea.
In her oven, she heated nice smooth round rocks to warm our beds.
In her top oven, she dried our wet mitts, socks and hats for our heads. 
Heck, she even heated Dad’s ‘swingin’ irons until they were red hot.
I still can smell that smoke as he got those sea ducks and turrs ready for the pot.

She did her job every day, resting only at night when we were asleep in our beds, one and all.
She didn’t ask much except to turn her grates once in a while, and dump her ash pan over the wall.
Just give my top the occasional wipe and swap my lids around every now and then, will you.
Open my damper and so I can burn hot, to take the soot and creosote out of my ‘chimley’ flue.

I often think about all the other essential things that we had.
Warm woollen blankets, comforters and soft feather beds,
Knitted wool mittens and socks, and stocking caps for our heads,
We had a not so soft daybed, kitchen table and chairs with legs made of chrome!
A big ol’ radio that sat on its shelf, but for real, grandkids, no TV or phone!

No, this is not the Enterprise that travelled through space, to frontiers unknown.
The one with Captain Kirk, Spock and the doctor named Bones.
This is a much more basic machine, but her mission in life was more important and giving.
That old Enterprise stove helped keep us all living.

But, for all that work, she never got much credit.
Like a lot of things in life we took her for granted.
The old saying goes that time just flies, that is true.
Our family that was once six, is now just a family of two
In our youth, she helped us grow up as she witnessed our life and all our boyhood pranks.
My only regret now is that I never did tell her Thanks!  

Submitted by: Cal Moulton