Something about tending a fire
The high dull clink of chopped wood against wood in the crook of my arm. Clatter onto the stack in the house.
The ritual of layers: newspaper crinkle crumpled down the middle, two logs wedged at the sides, kindling (small, larger, from paintbrush size to finger size to walking stick thickness) on top of it all.
The match. Scratch, whoosh, sulfur, flame.
Baby it. Don't let it go out.
[Science aside: the newspaper has to burn hot enough and long enough to push the cold air in the chimney back up and out, or else your fire smothers and dies and you get a house full of smoke when the cold air presses in on what you've built.)
The nonmechanical deep throat whisper roar of air and flame. Crackle of wood. Hiss of embedded water. Periodic expanding iron sounds, like a point.
Radiating heat. None other like it. Knowingfeeling the subtle sigh in the air as flames retreat to coals and the room temperature drops a degree. Time to feed the fire.
I like tending a fire in a wood stove. More than I like tending a campfire. The responsibility. The knowing. The action in regularity. Keep it going or go cold and try again.
It's satisfying.
The ritual of layers: newspaper crinkle crumpled down the middle, two logs wedged at the sides, kindling (small, larger, from paintbrush size to finger size to walking stick thickness) on top of it all.
The match. Scratch, whoosh, sulfur, flame.
Baby it. Don't let it go out.
[Science aside: the newspaper has to burn hot enough and long enough to push the cold air in the chimney back up and out, or else your fire smothers and dies and you get a house full of smoke when the cold air presses in on what you've built.)
The nonmechanical deep throat whisper roar of air and flame. Crackle of wood. Hiss of embedded water. Periodic expanding iron sounds, like a point.
Radiating heat. None other like it. Knowingfeeling the subtle sigh in the air as flames retreat to coals and the room temperature drops a degree. Time to feed the fire.
I like tending a fire in a wood stove. More than I like tending a campfire. The responsibility. The knowing. The action in regularity. Keep it going or go cold and try again.
It's satisfying.