"…flames stand and fling a golden light…"

It is my one day off. Saturn`s Day. One single solitary day wherein I am neither compelled nor obligated to engage in any sort of labor or endeavor. O, `tis a blissful indulgence… as rare and sweet as a taste of chocolate.

Whilst lazing about, padding around the house in my socks, I notice the relative silence of the downstairs – compared to the sudden din I hear coming from the backyard.

Peering through the translucent curtains, I watch my mother and “wee ones” milling about the grounds. I open the back door to see them all clearing brush and hauling logs towards the Fire Circle, as smoke shrouds the treetops in a low mist.

I chuckle to myself at the sight… my beloved mother, matriarch extraordinaire, upbraiding and cajoling the children with cheeky relish; my eldest daughter carefully building a “wigwam” out of sparse saplings, her gossamer hair whirling in the light breeze; my eldest son clambering to the top of the woodpile for better tinder, singing to himself in low murmurings; my youngest daughter feeding marshmallows to the dog, and giggling as he licks her sticky fingers.

Trading my tea and slippers for a sweatshirt and sandals, I join the bucolic revelry. I gather a few of the heavy logs from the shadowy back corner of the yard, bringing them out from the mossy undergrowth to dry in the Sun. Come Sunset they shall be ready enough to burn through the Night.

Before adjourning indoors, I arrange the fire into a careful circular cross-hatch pattern. This will burn low and steadily for the better part of a day, with little flare or smoke, and without any need for maintenance until late afternoon.

When the Sun sets, I shall return. Rakovalkea.


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