In the living room at dusk the fireplace was lit, how we loved watching those golden flames. Perhaps this is why we speak of "home and hearth" as something sacred. Perhaps we need to feel real warmth in the heart of our home.
From the old range stove grew four blue flowers of lit gas, the petals of each growing around the pans. Soon there was that aroma of dinner time, that sensation of home.
They had a lot of techniques in that house for using less gas and still living well, it was as if they had seen it as an enjoyable challenge.
With the tiniest of sparks the gas ignited as a great blue flower being conjured into existence. Then the flame settled to a steady flow and the cooking began.
We made the most of the gas, cooking in larger batches on the stove top and making Sunday our baking day. It was kinder to the environment and more sociable too, plus it gave mother more free time during the week.
The gas burned with a quiet roar, the blue flames giving a steady heat. There was something calming about watching them, as if years of homely memories condensed into that hypnotic moment.
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