I've spent the past few days in a hired cottage: a change of scene, a break from it all. The high point of this visit – indeed, of any cottage holiday, in my books – is the open fire in the sitting room. I love a fire. I love arranging the kindling, propping up a log, lighting the match. I love watching the flame take hold and grow from a tentative lick to a thriving roar. I love the absorbing glowing flow of the yellowy-orange light that dances and twists in exquisite shapes.
fire fire burning bright
fire fire burning bright
fire fire burning bright
I've spent the past few days in a hired cottage: a change of scene, a break from it all. The high point of this visit – indeed, of any cottage holiday, in my books – is the open fire in the sitting room. I love a fire. I love arranging the kindling, propping up a log, lighting the match. I love watching the flame take hold and grow from a tentative lick to a thriving roar. I love the absorbing glowing flow of the yellowy-orange light that dances and twists in exquisite shapes.