With all its early optimism, January is a long and dark month. I crave turf hitting an open fire and sending up its sweet and musty sparks, the cast iron of an AGA radiating glow from its belly. The coal man, coming around the back of our house, an avalanche of sacks slung into the bunker, black dust rising. The smell of it tight in the shovel and scuttle, and the glowing brass a chiaroscuro. And the waft of a match struck and a wick lit, crackling a little, burnt off leaving beeswax and forgotten flowers hanging in the air.
We all take our glow where we find it. And there must be something to all this; that no matter how insulated and warmly-dressed we are, how much air thumps its way through our pipes and radiators, the sight of a flame brings a more certain sense of warmth and of safety. I find myself craving it most in January with its brittle air and salt-stained floors, its blue light and wall thin whispers.
Happy New Year!
1. Walnuts Farm | Sweater | Candles | Sconce | Wallpaper | Gerhard Richter candles series
2. Gerhard Richter candles series | Ring | Pyjama | Candle | Mirror | Saipua flowers