A Driftwood Fire

Now here's a strange sight in New Zealand.

A Christmas tree; and a fire burning.
At the same time.

Last night was cold enough to light our fire. We had it full of driftwood that we had collected from our beach house two years ago, so it was tinder dry after sitting in a box in the garage for that long. I had promised my husband the reward of a driftwood fire after carting a box of it home in the car on the long journey from Auckland to Christchurch.

Have you ever had the experience of a driftwood fire? Add it to your bucket list. I love the crackling, and the delicious beach aroma that comes from burning driftwood. A salty, sandy scent that transports you to the beach, even if it's miles away. Somehow the wood carries the essence of the ocean and the beach with it - even two years after it left.

I got down on my knees close to the fire box to breathe in the delicious smells, when a flurry of sparks sent me flying backwards. I think one even managed to singe the carpet! Oh dear! Rob just laughed at me and reminded me that's why he likes the door closed on the fire. I like it open. Just don't kneel right in front of it.

What a nice way to finish the year.