I know I am privileged, I was cold: my first winter event - I did it!

I am privileged.

I do much of my learning through doing. There have been things I have wanted to do over the past few years that most people would just shake their heads at and ask why? I have needed to get into the head space, even if it's just a tiny bit, to understand what it must have been like for a woman to exist back in the eighteenth-century. I've never been one for the big names and dates of history. I've always wanted to know what it must have been like for people just like me, coming from lower incomes and economic status.

All last year, I looked forward to being invited to do one of the winter events at Ticonderoga. What must it have felt like to have lived in the fort in the winter. Everywhere is beautiful in summer, life is beautiful in summer. Winter is hard work. Pierre and I worked our butts off last summer to be afforded the opportunity to attend more events at the site.

It paid off.

We missed the November event due to strep throat. I was bummed. I had looked forward to seeing what I could do. I was scared as well, of being cold, of making a mistake because of the cold, of letting people down. I will admit, the spector of cold hung there, creating anxiety most of the winter. Up until our drive down to the fort on Friday afternoon, I felt like I was a crazy-woman, foolish to be going 'camping' in the death throws of a harsh winter. It was still -22C on Friday morning. Foolish, I tell you!
Every bit of wool clothing I own was packed, there was an extra polar fleece blanket tucked into the bed roll, just in case. There were builder's protein bars at easy access, just in case my sugars went stupid and I started to shiver. I was as prepared as I was ever going to be. Pierre lovingly laughed at me, and told me that I would be ok. I think he was also proud that I was stepping out of my comfort zone and doing this thing though, even if he didn't actually say it out loud.

We got to the site, unpacked the car, got things set up. Alan started the fire in the hearth for us as we got geared up, and I managed to get it going good and solid while Pierre took the car out to the parking lot. We ended up being the only ones allotted bunk space in the west barracks for two reasons, 1. we would be cooking for the officers and needed a working hearth and to be close by the work space we would be inhabiting, but also 2. we would need to vacate that space fairly quickly in the afternoon so that boy scouts could take over the space Saturday night. When I went to bed Friday night, I knew how very lucky I was to have a fire. It was still blessedly cold. It took most of the night to just warm up the hearth, Pierre and I took turns getting up and adding fuel to keep the fire going. And it was still cold.
The west barracks room was still chilly in the morning, so we got up and dressed fairly quickly. We knew the folks in the other barracks spaces went through a much colder night than us, having no working hearths. We also know the need for coffee on an early morning at an encampment. Doubly so when it's cold.

I made it through the roughest part of the weekend, in my mind's eye. It was daylight now, and I would not be alone in the cold. I also would be extremely busy during the day, and maybe wouldn't notice so much. I was dressed, coffee was on board, and I got to work.

I dashed upstairs about as fast as one can with layers of petticoats and stays on, extra tablecloth and dinnerware in hand. I wanted the table set as best as I could, a double layer of cloth went down so that dishes wouldn't make noise when placed, my fake Delft tiles went under the candlesticks. A Christmas gift from Laura, a sugar cone, found its way to a little dish and placed in the centre of the table with the salt cellar and oil bottle. I nailed Stuart down to the table to actually eat breakfast, instead of having to chase him to throw food at him. The fort opened, and food began to be served. Interpretation happened, actual living history happened.

I found I was out of practice, talking to people. I sit much of the day at home either in front of the computer, writing about interpretation, or in the studio, creating garments to be worn by interpreters. I had forgotten what it was like to speak to people outside my friends group. Telling people about what I was serving, who I was, my back story. It was a good thing the day was busy, I didn't have time to think about how I must have sounded until later, on the ride home. All-in-all, it was a busy, but excellent day.

And yes, it was freaking cold!

As the day died down, and we started packing up to be evicted from our barracks, I was glad to be heading home for the night. I was looking forward to my car's seat warmer for 2.5 hours, looking forward to a nuclear hot shower when we got home, and to kitty snuggles. I was tired.

We left the site with big grins on our faces, looking forward to May opening weekend. I'm already menu planning, and looking forward to hopefully another season of living history with the site.

And yes, I am looking forward to warm weather again....did I mention, it was cold?