Iron and Ash

Returned inside from the yard as night fell. In the grate of the hearth sat a cold black cast iron grate heaped with charred pine rounds. Heavy carbon deposit. One thick, unburned timber tilted unevenly over the front lip, obstructing the intake flue. I gripped the soot-blackened branch with both gauntlets and braced my boots on the rough brick threshold. Pushed inward with steady, unyielding force until the log dropped flush into the center cradle with a solid thud. Dust drifted down. Flue path cleared. The hearth perimeter is set.