Scent.

Homer, Camp Fire, 1880

Beechwood fires are bright and clear

If the logs are kept a year,

Chestnut’s only good they say,

If for logs ’tis laid away.

Make a fire of Elder tree,

Death within your house will be;

But ash new or ash old,

Is fit for a queen with crown of gold.

Birch and fir logs burn too fast

Blaze up bright and do not last,

it is by the Irish said

Hawthorn bakes the sweetest bread.

Elm wood burns like churchyard mould,

E’en the very flames are cold

But ash green or ash brown

Is fit for a queen with golden crown

Poplar gives a bitter smoke,

Fills your eyes and makes you choke,

Apple wood will scent your room

Pear wood smells like flowers in bloom

Oaken logs, if dry and old

keep away the winter’s cold

But ash wet or ash dry

a king shall warm his slippers by.

Lady Celia Congreve

Mix.

I please my imagination more with a circle of godlike men and women variously related to each other, and between whom subsists a lofty intelligence. But I find this law of one to one peremptory for conversation, which is the practice and consummation of friendship. Do not mix waters too much. The best mix as ill as good and bad. You shall have very useful and cheering discourse at several times with two several men, but let all three of you come together, and you shall not have one new and hearty word. Two may talk and one may hear, but three cannot take part in a conversation of the most sincere and searching sort. In good company there is never such discourse between two, across the table, as takes place when you leave them alone. In good company, the individuals merge their egotism into a social soul exactly co-extensive with the several consciousnesses there present. No partialities of friend to friend, no fondnesses of brother to sister, of wife to husband, are there pertinent, but quite otherwise. Only he may then speak who can sail on the common thought of the party, and not poorly limited to his own. Now this convention, which good sense demands, destroys the high freedom of great conversation, which requires an absolute running of two souls into one.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, from "Friendship"

Sing.

Wyeth, Bonfire, 1993

AUTUMN FIRES

In the other gardens

   And all up in the vale,

From the autumn bonfires

   See the smoke trail!

Pleasant summer over, 

   And all the summer flowers,

The red fire blazes,

   The grey smoke towers.

Sing a song of seasons!

   Something bright in all!

Flowers in the summer,

   Fires in the fall! 

Robert Louis Stevenson

Curiously.

I have noticed that when all the lights are on, people tend to talk about what they are doing – their outer lives. Sitting round in candlelight or firelight, people start to talk about how they are feeling – their inner lives. They speak subjectively, they argue less, there are longer pauses. To sit alone without any electric light is curiously creative. I have my best ideas at dawn or at nightfall, but not if I switch on the lights – then I start thinking about projects, deadlines, demands, and the shadows and shapes of the house become objects, not suggestions, things that need to done, not a background to thought.

Jeanette Winterson