The Yule (B)log

Jobs finished late last night, we sat with our meal and strong Hobgoblin beers in front of the fire. When the time seemed right we put in the Yule Log.  The Log should find you, I have heard, and this short fat unchoppable monster arrived with a bag of logs; gnarled, iron-barked, ancient.  We left it burning gently when we made an unsteady way to bed and it had completely gone by the morning.  But when I made a start on the fire this morning the ashes were still smouldering, so in a way the Log has warmed the house for a day and two evenings.