A book tells me that the reflection of the fire in the dark glass of the windows, seen more faintly and as if it were outside, leaping eeriely in time with the fire in the hearth, was once called witch-fire by some. It strikes me as a good name, but I am not fearful of witches. It was probably an unnerving name to those who used it. The book too suggests that people did not like to see it, that they covered the windows against the dark, the cold, and also the illusion of mysterious burning on the snow around the house.
I have no hearth, but I have lit candles. I do not draw the curtains because I do not mind the phantom flames in the window. They are merry enough. They hover, forming new constellations with the usual flock of glittering points, some outside lights on the hill, some reflections of lights of the room.
Ah, now they are guttering.
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It's strange that people should begrudge the offering (albeit from a window) of light without heat. Too often we get it the other way around.
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