The sun seems to be setting already a bit after noon. At least that is how it feels. For the first time after the summer temperatures are predicted below zero in the night time. It isn't the watercold with drizzle which has started, it is the genuine cold. And I like it.
I went for a walk with a friend the other day with our dogs. The dog has never walked this much in his life before as in the last couple of weeks I suppose. He doesn't mind, although he is starting to turn into a mothers child it seems. He is clinging on to me.
After the walk we reached my friends home and her hubby made some hot coco with some home made whipped cream. It fitted the situation perfectly after a walk of 11000 steps, returning back into the house into the heat.
Yesterday I wore my gloves and a snowcap on my bike for the first time. It was good that I did, because it was seriously cold with hardly any wind, and I felt the wind of the speed of the biking going through my pants.
After reaching home then all of a sudden there was fire. Heat, the color of the flames and the feeling of returning home. What was missing was the smell of a christmas tree. On the to do list. I sat down and looked at the fire.
My hands started to tingle from getting back on the normal temperature. I noticed I was still staring into the flames and I was wondering how long I had been doing this already. Time was passing by and I wasn't seeing this as an issue.
I was thinking about the times when I always thought about having some fireplace around me. In the caribbean I was missing the fire and we used to make campfires on the beach on Sundays when the sun was setting until it was too dangerous on staying on the beach. There was a lot of activty involved always on having a beach fire.
A pit needed to be dug, and deep enough that the fire wouldn't go over the edge. Caribbean beaches are always windy, and with the temperatures everything was always crack dry. You wouldn't want a spark to fly away and ignite a hotelbuilding or something.
So digging. After that we would always look for old palmleaves to get the fire going. Usually the fire would hold its strength because of old driftwood that we always found. That would be put in last then.
After the fire was out we always needed to bury the pit with sand for the warm charcoal, to make sure it was out and to prevent animals from walking in. Beach campfires was a different story always.
My mind returned back to the fire here in cold Holland and how my hands were defrosting again. An hour had passed and I had just sat and stared in the flames. We all need some fire to chill the mind on.