M - Thanksgiving Fire (the good kind)

The trusty ol' wireless thermometer now reads 26 degrees outside our kitchen window. It's down from 28 degrees which it read at 0500hrs this morning over two hours ago. The sun will hit it in a few minutes and give a false reading for about an hour until it's in the shade again created by the cover over our patio.

It seems to me that 26 degrees easily justifies putting the fireplace into action. Noah begged me to wake him up when it was time but the little booger really needs to get a full night's rest. We always go to bed later when family is visiting.

For me, a real fireplace is the only way to go. Today's fire is particularly crackly and all the more enjoyable as a result. I've been playing with fire my whole life. It's not a camping trip unless there is fire and perhaps, if all goes well, a small degree of danger. On the hottest summer night of camping, a campfire must rise from the dirt if only out of nostalgic obligation. On the coldest night, the fire is no longer just for fun. It's an absolute necessity. Waking up in a cold tent leaves a person longing for someone else to get up first and get the fire started.

EVERY time I build a fire, whether at my house or at a campsite, I am reminded of the central role of our old Ashley Stove at the house where I spent most of my childhood. The only sources of heat were electric blankets, electric space heaters, and most importantly, the fireplace. Thus, cutting wood took on a whole new level of importance. It was a necessity. It's not possible to count the number of trips to the back of our pasture, or any number of family members' pastures, to cut wood on a Saturday morning. We'd cut and haul wood all day long until my great-grandmother determined we had 'enough'. She was generally in charge of 'kindling' and would stoop over and pick up enough to fill boxes and boxes with small little branches to ease the fire starting process. My mom and I were usually the chainsaw operators with my mom doing most of that work. Sometimes we'd be accompanied by one or two of my uncles.

We knew just which low branches gave the best 'horsey' rides and which trees had the best grape vines for swinging. I know now that those times of collective family work shaped me as much as any vacation or free time wandering the pasture. There sure were plenty of times when I DID NOT want to go. It was almost always cold and windy, it seems, and playing carried a much greater appeal.

That's enough nostalgia for one morning. The fire is working great and I'd say right now the living room is a little TOO warm. But, it smells just right and sounds just right and it kind of reminds me of the 'old days'.

Are there any other fireplace purists out there or is it 'natural gas and firelogs' only for your household?