Sitting by the roaring fire, which is taking the chill of the air nicely, bathed in that most wonderful of lights, moonlight, I feel connected. Connected to the movements of the heavens, to the seasons, to nature, to time, and connected through time to those endless ancestral generations of ours, to whom sitting round a fire was natural, a fundamental part of their lives. I love that timelessness, looking up at the same moon, it makes me feel human in a world increasingly plastic and devoid of humanity. Initially, and for the most part, the skies remained clear for the last full Moon of the year, the Cold Moon, a Super Moon, and her majesty was clearly seen, later though, as the evening passed, the clouds gathered to obscure the sky. Winter's certainly here, step away from the fire side and you know it. It's hard to beat nights like this; crisp air, clear skies, glowing moon, ritual, music (Archive, Cary Grace, Stones from the Sky, and John Martyn), fire, and some Calvados to loosen the gears, apples seemed seasonally appropriate.
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