There’s nothing quite like a bonfire on a cold January morning. All the sodden branches pruned in the Autumn are finally going up in smoke and later, when I can get near enough, I’ll bury some potatoes to bake in the ashes. This is never quite as successful as it sounds but it’s a nice idea.
Len is in charge of the fire which he pokes from time to time with his ancient skillet; he brought it along to unblock the ditches but it's also pretty good for leaning on and gazing into fires. A lot of this has been going on this morning.