Another log on the fire

I’m sitting in our living room on Sunday night, watching the fireplace fire I just built. 

Our fireplace operates today as it did when the house was built nearly 120 years ago. Its brick chimney rises up the south wall of the house and elevates well above the third floor roof. 

Every other year or so I buy half a pickup load of firewood, which my local supplier cuts and stacks along the side of our garage. I try to keep the log rack next to the fireplace full of dry firewood, which I bring inside on dry days with the help of my cloth log carrier.

I lay the fire with crumpled newspaper on the bottom, then a layer of whatever partially burned wood remains from the last fire, then a few small commercial fire starter squares, and finally two or three split logs from the rack. I try to time the periodic addition of logs so that they neither pile up in the fireplace nor go so late that all that’s left are coals.

With proper attention I can keep it going for a few hours. That’s long enough for us old folks to enjoy it until bedtime.

With Kathy’s artistic Christmas greenery decor bedecking the natural wood mantel and our stockings hanging on either side of the fireplace doors, the fire lends a festive note to the living room.

Uh, excuse me, I’ll be right back.

There. It’s going again. As usual, my fire flickered and nearly went out. I stoked it and added a log, and it’s now blazing nicely again.

I understand the benefits of gas fireplaces. They’re simple to operate, they never go out on their own, and their blaze is attractive.

But I prefer the wood-fueled kind. I grew up with it, got practiced at building fires on camping trips, and get a good deal of satisfaction from the ritual.

Fire has been around on the planet for a very long time. The first fossil record of it discovered to date is from 490 million years ago, about the time that land-based plants appeared. Evidence of human use of fire for cooking goes back about 1.9 million years.

Like many other things — guns, speech, opioids, sharp objects — fire cuts both ways. It can be employed for good or ill.

Controlled burns help prevent future wildfires. Fire can heat homes or destroy them. Unlimited burning of fossil fuels can damage Earth’s atmosphere and contribute to climate change, with serious consequences for living things.

Uh-oh. It’s down to just a flicker again. Just a minute.

OK. Back again. Some miscellaneous fiery notes:

In the 1800s on the Iowa prairie, settlers often stayed up all night in winter to keep feeding their cabin fireplace so the family didn’t freeze. Wood was preferred, but when that wasn’t available, dried cattle dung was sometimes the fuel of choice.

Voyageurs and mountain men knew the secret of birch bark: because of its high pitch content, it will burn even when it’s soaking wet. It therefore makes a foolproof fire starter.

Occasional prairie fires, stretching for miles and moving at incredible speeds, with an eerie roar, were among the greatest dangers the settlers faced.

During the 1930s, when the price of corn dropped to 10 cents a bushel or lower, farmers sometimes burned that crop in their furnaces or stoves because it was cheaper than other fuels.

The practice of tobacco smoking has been around for about 7,000 years, starting in Middle and South America and then moving into Eurasia in the late 1600s. It spread exponentially with the development of commercial cigarette rolling.

The tradition of giving out cigars to celebrate the birth of a baby goes back to the 16th century. It took place even earlier among indigenous peoples of North America, where a primitive cigar gift marked the event of a newborn. And smoking a peace pipe was a common ceremony among Native Americans.

But enough of this. My fire’s almost out again. Time to stoke it — or call it a night.