Fire and Ice

It’s sooo cold! It is 0 or below and forecast to be no warmer for the whole week. It is windy and snowy and when you can see the sun it is through a thin vale of cloud. This is actual weather not the inbetween slightly cold slightly wet weather we usually have.

There is something undeniably beautiful but completely raw in this weather which reminds me, as we all should be reminded, of the frailty of my life. If I didn’t have my modern comforts I would undoubtedly be at the mercy of this weather and this type of weather has no mercy at all.

There are of course people who live in these and far far worse conditions and for the majority of our history we would have been outside in this weather, huddled around that most prized thing, a fire.

We have heaters of course but central heating is not the same as a fire. Not even close not even near. The fire doesn’t only provide warmth it provides light, sound, a hypnotic show. It was the heart of the home where the family would huddle and talk, share stories and cook their food. It draws us in and asks us to sit and stay a while.

Making a fire is a ritual in itself, cleaning the burner of the old ash and then out to collect the wood. We have a log store, we made it 2 years ago and the log man comes twice in the winter. All of us move and stack the logs, a lovely group activity like a real life game of Jenga. Reaching in, collecting the logs and stacking them in my arms is a familiar task that millions of people around the world share. The sound of the wood banging together and feel of the cold, solid, soft wood are reassuring, the promise of the show to come. T and B both know how to setup the fire laying the paper then the kindling and do so very well. Then all the jobs come together as the match is struck and the fire comes to life. We will stay here a while, watching it, grateful for each other, this ritual and the shelter from the cold.