She found her mother trying to start a fire in the wood-stove. Yesterday had not required a fire, so a blaze took more coaxing this morning. Two attempts. Three attempts. Still the box was black, and cold. Finally, much later than it ought to have, the wood caught and warmth slowly started to pour into the room.
Even though her house contains one, a wood-stove brings feelings of nostalgia to the rambler. She remembers her family's first wood-stove, when they lived in a cabin in the forest. She thought back to her many failed attempts when she was learning to start a fire. Memories of wood-cutting trips, and stacking parties fill her mind and she sighs.
Then there was the other house. Much different from the cabin, but it, too, holds memories of hot cocoa or tea around a wood-stove.
And now this home contains a lovely stove as well. The smell of wood heat fills the rooms and one can hear the metal complaining as someone opens the door to add a piece or two on sweet smelling wood.