A Love of Flames and Ashes

A Love of Flames and Ashes

My dearest Woodstove,

I wish to tell you of my profound love for you and how blessed I consider myself to have become acquainted with you.

For many months I struggled through the harsh winters without your warmth as I feared wind, snowstorms and the tragedy of frozen pipes. I yearned for a means of keeping warm when the power would go out or when the wind sent chills down my spine in this lonely attic space.

I had planned for you a happy home; you see, I even bought the tiles months in advance. I knew you would come into my life and grace me with your warmth someday, but I never could have imagined just how fiery you would be. You set my bones on fire! No, not literally – imagine such a thing?  Yet, you do have a way of warming me straight down to my core.

I remember the day I met you like it was yesterday. There was a chill in the October air when they unloaded you off the truck and I saw the first glimpse of your cast iron sides and lovely glass door. You were such a heavy thing to move and I feared you’d just fall right through the floor of my attic space. I admit, my dearest, I feared for us both.

There was a considerable effort put into getting you into the house and up the attic steps and even more considerable effort went into placing you in the exact center of the tiled space. I couldn’t have you just an inch off center! No, for you my dearest, only perfection would do.

As I had stood there admiring your beauty I began envisioning all the fires I would build in you. I knew I mustn’t get ahead of myself though; I still had to get the chimney pipes. You love your chimney pipes, don’t you? I purchased them especially to fit you and provide the best means of smoke to escape from you. I am rather fond of the job we did. Your chimney pipes look lovely and work beautifully. Wouldn’t you agree?

Now, my dear, I must tell you of the first fire. Oh, now don’t blush! I truly found it to be a beautiful little fire. I know we had much to learn at that time of how best to build a fire for you, but I’d say by now we’ve gotten the hang of it. We went from small fires we must cradle and tend to gently and cautiously to raging fires stacked perfectly for the best heat consumption. Your catalytic converter loves your fires now, doesn’t it? We've sure learned a lot.

I love how I can come home and find a nice bed of coals waiting for the perfect logs. The logs catch easily and I can sit and simply gaze at all your flaming glory. I find such magnificent beauty in your flames as they dance and change from yellow, to orange and finally to blue. The bluest flames burn so hot and intense filling your insides with an artful masterpiece of color.

If I ever think back to the days before you’ve come into my life, I recall high electric bills and cold. I am surely uncertain how I have made it this long without you. I never want to go another winter without your warmth spreading through my attic space. I never want to greet another cold, dreary morning without your lovely coals.

I get such pleasure from scooping your ashes out. I feel like Cinderella as I shovel them into the ash pot. It’s not a chore at all, my dear. It’s an honor to rid you of the remnants of the logs that burned like our love.

You are a treasure in my life. I think you are the loveliest woodstove anyone could ask for. I feel blissfully delighted to walk past you every day and stop to warm my hands. I hope we are never parted from each other. I can’t imagine a life without you! If I must move, you must come with me and never warm another’s home but mine. Promise me this: that our love will continue burning on all the cold and dreary winter nights.

I love you, my dearest woodstove. You are the warmth that I set my sight upon each day I escape the cold.

With all the love I possess,

Your Fiery Lover

Elizabeth Azpurua