baby, you can light my fire

i returned home at dusk last saturday after a particularly long and gruelling day in the lab. as the beastly dodge struggled around the last tight corners to approach the house i gazed up whistfully at the chimney, hoping, wishing hard, to see a delicate tendril of smoke unfurling, signaling a visit from the good housekeeping goblins.
really i hoped that some poor sod would have wandered over to light our woodstove just because. a bit of kind hearted mischief, a bit of love for the poor freezing aussie.

alas. no cigar. no fire in the stove and only a half jummbled cryptic message from jean-paul waiting on the answering machine. i grabbed my torch and nestled down further into my jacket. pulled on the stinky fish boots and headed deeper into the cold to ask my neighbour to decipher his code. the message came to nought but after a cup of tea, with my bum huddled as close to his stove as i could get it, i had warmed sufficently to whistfully recount my dream for homecoming.

j-p (who had been busy ferreting in his cupboards) snapped his head around, his blue eyes flashing, 'ha!' he said ' you want me to go and light your fire?'... 'not a chance in hell.' i sighed, and stayed for dinner.

this friday, after an especially blustery day on the farm, windburnt and frost bitten, j and i nudged our way home along the track at at dusk. as the beastly dodge struggled around the last tight corners to approach the house i gazed up whistfully at the chimney, hoping, wishing hard, to see a delicate tendril of smoke unfurling, signaling a visit from the good housekeeping goblins.

behold. not a tendril but a puff of magic smoke! and after a split second of mild panic, (before the chimney came into full view) it was indeed the vision of my dreams. i jumped out of the car in time to see j-p's brother, david, and his lovely blossom, disappearing into the woods.

bless those yurka brothers, j-p and his cheeky stories, david and his quiet gifts and both with their big bold hearts.