I am rocking gently in our beloved yardsale rocking chair, a new babe, my daughter, sleeping quietly on my chest.
A dear relative appeared on our doorstep on my son's birthday recently with a woodstove for us, and told us a mason would be by the next day to install it in our fireplace. A most welcome gift, from a deeply generous family member. Since it's arrival, my husband has done most of the firekeeping, as I keep our lass (who spends much of her time on my chest) at a distance from the flames.
This morning, my husband went out very early with our boy, leaving the embers from last night's fire lying under their bed of ashes, rather than stoking and refueling them as he normally does. The babe roused many times during the night, so she and I slept in late, and by the time I checked the woodstove, it did not hold the gorgeous orange bed of glowing embers I'm accustomed to seeing when it's running low (as in the photo above); it was quiet, cool, and entirely gray, no embers peeking up from the ashes. I searched for any living embers toward the back of the stove, knowing they had the greatest chance of surviving the night there, being furthest from the vent on the door and thus least likely to have been fanned and used up during the night. I discovered a few tiny sparks that only lived a minute after being uncovered, and then found several very small embers that gave me hope.
My success at starting fire by friction for the first time this past year has left me with a deep desire to know how to handle fire. How to invite it to appear where it was not, as we do in fire by friction; how to nurture it to awaken from embers using only materials growing in the natural world (without paper). I wish to know fire, and I wish to know it respectfully. I am teaching my son, and will teach my daughter, to thank the fire for coming when it ignites, to thank always the trees who feed the fire and allow it to heat our home. I want to learn to coax it from quiet embers or invite it to emerge from wood on wood, because using these methods allows it to have some say in whether or not it comes. This sort of gentle treatment does not force it to appear, as do the lighters and matches which I have always used until now. The more I have to pay attention and work for fire to come, the more deeply I know and respect it, and the more I appreciate and honor its arrival.
So today, I spent much time and patience with what embers were remaining, trying to bring flame from them. I tried first birch bark, then cattail down to feed them, and blew on the tinder bundle (of sorts) for much longer than I'd expected necessary to rekindle the flames. During this process, these failed attempts and final success, the above reflections emerged and took shape.
A note on my blog: With two children now, I have far less time alone, which has always been my most fertile time for reflecting on my life and my experiences, as well as the easiest time to write, edit, and share my thoughts. However, I want to continue recording and sharing my life through my blog, as I find the time. So in order to do so, I am going to begin sharing writings that I have not edited and pared down as much as I would prefer. The result will be a clunkier, wordier, but more active blog.
Thank you for reading my words, and may you share your experiences in the way that is right (and feasible) for you.
