Home Is Where the Hearth Is
Many, many years ago I attended a work function one winter evening at a destination I can’t remember in the northern suburbs of Johannesburg, South Africa. We walked into this large, open room. It was sparsely decorated, cold high ceilings and dimly lit by candlelight and fire.
The massive, stone Medieval-looking fireplace was an intense focal point and flames leapt and danced and smoked and crackled from glowing logs. In the space between the sounds it was a simple imaginative skip to finding oneself in an eleventh century fortress somewhere.
Facing the fireplace was a vintage, French chaise-lounge. Threadbare in places but still retaining a somewhat regal flair. On it lay a large dog. On the tattered Persian carpet in front of the fair sprawled another large dog, possibly a Greyhound.
That is what I want !
I said it then and it remains my ideal portrayal of domestic bliss to this day.
A short while ago, on a damp, cool evening in early Fall – very early Fall – a friend posted on Facebook : I really, really, really want to have a fire in the fireplace right now, but my husband will think I have lost my marbles if I do it.
The overwhelming, and unsurprisingly all female response was : Do it !!
A woman’s heart leaps towards a fire. It is an old world comfort and connection.
Home is where the hearth is. Fire it up ! You and the dog will be happy.
