All Fired Up

Holy shit, it's cold in my house. Seriously.

There is no such thing as central heat and air down here because there are no real extremes in weather so when it gets chilly, you turn on the heat pump (installed on the wall, electrically manufactures dry heat) or, if you are unlucky like me, you light a fire.

The thing is, most Kiwis are acclimated to the winter and to them, a daytime temperature of 13°C (55.4°F) in the house, is normal.

I am freezing my ass off.

As I write this, it is late morning, and I am wearing sweats, thermals, a hoody, socks, Uggs, wrapped in a blanket with a beanie on my head. And still, my nose runs from the cold. It is a balmy sixteen degrees C, in here and the fireplace beckons.

My neighbours will smell my fire.

They will likely shake their heads and tsk tsk about what a wimpy North American I am.

I think I am beyond caring.

1. Get wood. Lots and lots of wood. And kindling. Kindling is your friend.

2. Stuff the fireplace full of newsprint. Try to use the good stuff (the big city newspaper) because those little community papers are under a tight budget and their rag just doesn't burn as well. Make sure the paper is loosely wadded so there is maximum airflow. Oxygen is your friend, too.

3. Place kindling on top. My husband, who is master fire-maker, takes the time to make tepees of the kindling and strategically places newsprint underneath each of his triangular creations. I say, sod it, and throw them all on top. I have plenty of paper and will burn every scrap of it until one or ten of those suckers catches fire.

4. The best part: the lighting. I am always so hopeful at this point.

5. Beauty, eh? Now, you open the flue wide, leave the fireplace door slightly ajar, and allow the fire to gorge itself on oxygen. I try to psych my fire out. At this point, I walk away saying things like, "Burn, don't burn...I don't care," and inevitably, without me hovering, all that kindling, oxygen and flame mingle like barflies.

6. Add the big dogs, give them plenty of air, and let them burn into gorgeous little embers.

At this point, I flip on the fireplace blower, seal the kitchen up and wait for the warmth to envelope me.

I am a fire goddess. I would have made an excellent scout.