Ramblings from Finemere Wood

Ramblings from Finemere Wood

"The only task that is essential today is to produce a fire with fiery embers, in which potatoes can be cooked to perfection, our Christmas tradition."

As another year draws to an end, the woodland workers gather in the ancient meadow in the heart of Finemere Wood to celebrate a year of hard work, fun, and friendship. It is a mild day, and the sun shines brightly as a bonfire is carefully constructed. The only task that is essential today is to produce a fire with fiery embers, in which potatoes can be cooked to perfection, our Christmas tradition.

Fortunately, amongst us are many who delight in playing with fire. There is something primal about it: coaxing it into life, tending to its every need. It requires a quiet, mindful focus, clearing the mind of all other thoughts.

A person prodding a large stick into a bonfire in a winter woodland clearing.

The only task that is essential today is to produce a fire with fiery embers, in which potatoes can be cooked to perfection, our Christmas tradition.

A robin sings above the crackling fire, its winter song so beautiful: soft, wistful, and a little mournful. This iconic bird sings all year round, its tone changing with the seasons - from mellow and soothing during the cold months, when testosterone levels are low, to powerful and vibrant in the summer.

Robins have autumn and winter territories, which are protected ferociously by a single bird. It is about individual survival, securing resources, food, and shelter. In summer, their territory expands as a pair of birds defends their breeding territory assertively.

I love the sparkle and togetherness that Christmas brings, but it is a poignant time too, as we remember those we have loved and lost. Folklore holds that the robin is a spiritual messenger, hence the saying, “When a robin appears, a loved one is near.” I, for one, find this comforting and grounding. A robin watches as I tend my garden or sings while I work in the woods, and in those moments, I feel my deceased father’s presence deeply.

Blog author Charlotte Karmali standing with a large wheelbarrow filled with potatoes wrapped in foil. The bonfire can be seen in the background.

There is nothing like a potato baked in a bonfire; it is simply delicious, and this year they were the best yet.

With ruddy, sooty faces, the caretakers of the fire extract our lunch from the red-hot embers. There is nothing like a potato baked in a bonfire; it is simply delicious, and this year they were the best yet.


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