Evidently a geologist-type owned Old Gal sometime before us and felt inspired to face the brick fireplace with his collection of semi-precious rocks and stones. It wasn’t just the out-of-square placing of the crazy stones that bugged me, but the fact that it protruded from the walls by ten inches and was just, well, so hefty. This behemoth had been the bane of my existence since we moved into the place and I was joyous to be ridding myself of the hated thing that so badly blocked my chi and made the useful placement of furniture in the Quiet Room challenging.
As with so many aspects of our Old Gal, it is very difficult to predict the outcome of the work until the actual work begins. Dan and Cam, mason/carpenters from Algonquin College, chipped away the oddly placed rocks and abnormally thick mortar without any particularly rude surprises. My youngest children, averse to change as always, nervously hovered in the doorway like buzzy bees as each stone was removed. But they delighted in carrying off the more interesting gems to their hive and divvying up the geological spoils. I made myself useful by carrying off the buckets of rubble and stone and even had a good go with the hammer and chisel. I felt my one big Popeye arm ballooning with each swing.
With the stone, the flue, awkward in-fill bricking, a steel lintel, a sand pit, and the firebox-within-a-firebox stripped, we were rewarded with the brick skeleton of a much larger fireplace which lay flush with the wall, save for some corbeling. Its proportions are balanced and it no longer competes with the delicate pattern of the tin ceiling. How divine.
I do not know, yet, what I want for a final finish. That is the delicious, arty piece of the equation that I will savour over the next months until the meat-and-potatoes work is done. We have no intention of using it as an open hearth fireplace but the new cleaned-up format allows us to easily install some kind of heat source if we choose. At this moment, I’m most concerned with my usual obsessive subject: air ingress.
I can appreciate that when Old Gal was built fuel, namely wood and coal, was cheap and plentiful. The fires and stoves were stoked up and unused rooms were closed to manage heating requirements. Now, with a variety of more efficient heating units (not to mention better insulation and air sealing) I find it quite insane that I have an enormous hole in my wall, complete with a slightly smaller gaping ash pit, that dumps warm air to the outside without cease. Husband suggested we insulate and seal it off then frame the opening and cover the entire thing with drywall. Poof! The fireplace disappears. I opted for the less radical approach of having the boys repoint and parge the existing bricks and parge the offending gaps along the adjacent studs. And I will devise an effective method for temporarily stopping up the chimney. I’ve seen those purpose-built blow-up poly pillows that look like flotation devices and may try one if my MacGyver fix fails.
To top it all off – all puns intended – I can hear the light drip of the unseasonal rains landing on the cardboard sheet roughly fitted in the chimney. As Dan warned us, we need to get that capped as soon as possible. I guess the sand pit had, amongst other purposes, served to capture any snow or water that had previously fallen.
While I am thrilled to have the stone beast banished, I mentally note the reappearance of the Gordian Knot effect that ensures my To Do list (cap the chimney, design the fireplace, move the pile of stones/bricks, strip the remaining lathe and plaster, finish sealing the room, remove trim, reinstall drywall, reattach the crown of the tin ceiling, paint, etc.) just got a whole lot longer.