Shkitagen: People of the Seventh
Fire
So much depends upon the lighting of this fire, so neatly laid on the
cold ground and circled round by stones. A platform of dry maple
kindling, a floor of fine twiglets snapped from the underside of a fir,
a nest of shredded bark ready for the coal over which broken pine
branches are balanced to draw the flame upward. Plenty of fuel,
plenty of oxygen. All the elements are in place. But without the
spark it is only a pile of dead sticks. So much depends on the
spark.
It was a point of pride in my family that we learned to light a fire
with a single match. My father was our teacher, along with the
woods themselves, and we learned without lessons, by playing and
watching and wanting to emulate his comfort in wild places. He
patiently showed us how to search out the right materials.
Incrementally, we observed the architecture that would feed the
flame. He put great store in a fine woodpile and many of our days