A Spark in the Grate

I trundled in from the garden gate to rest my chalk-dusted base by the cool cast-iron stove. Sitting right on the lower hearth step was a small, round magnifying glass with a heavy brass rim. With a hearty chuckle, I squared my stout sides and shoved the glass until it propped securely against the stove's foot. A warm beam from the floor lamp angled right through the convex lens, focusing a brilliant little spot of amber gold straight onto a dry pine needle on the tile. It didn't catch fire, but it glowed like a tiny electric ember! I rocked on my base, admiring our clean indoor beacon.