Fire in the House

It has all gone cold and gray. It feels close to freezing but the thermometer claims it is 11 degrees. The sudden change is a bit of a shock and so it feels colder than it actually is. It all feels... wintery...

I am not the only one feeling it. The heating has gone on at work.

I feel tired and my house does not feel cozy. It needs a fire.... We could turn the heating up more but.... A fire would be much much better.

There is something about fire isn't there. It dances with such mesmerising and dangerous beauty. It warms in such a lovely cozy way. It crackles and spits and that to, to me, has connotations of home.

In the TV room at home, the home of my childhood, there was a big old fire place. A big brick alcove topped by a solid old black oak beam that sit at about eye level. There was two brick shelves, one on each side of the alcove, set entirely within it. In front of the fire there was an animal skin, goat or something I think, it eventualy went as it was rather full of burns....

My Dad harvests wood from the garden, kindling into lengths and boxed, logs of all sorts of sizes either boxed or against the wall depending on size. A shed full of it. The door doesn't shut quite properly and it will never get fixed because a robin nests in there now. My Dad's saws live on the wall and the old chair with no back that he uses for sawing on live in there to. And lots and lots of wood.

I grew up knowing how to lay a fire.

Some years back, the two brick shelves were stripped out and a new hearthstone of brick was laid (in reclaimed bricks that matched the house) and a wood stove put in place. I love it. And hate it. So much heat and so economical and environmental but it keeps the fire caged. No smell or sound.

I so want a fire and for me it has to be a stove, but I will miss the immediacy of fire.

Oddly Amused Grace's Goddess of the Week was Vesta today. Fire.