Husband and I are not as adept as the supermarket firewood suppliers in forming logs of standard length and appearance. In fact, many of our logs are completely misshapen. I'm watching a hollow log burn in the fireplace right now that looks like the head of a feral hog with mouth agape and flaming tusks. Saffron tongues leap out from under and above, from in front and behind. Its belly is a cave of flame. Maybe there are small Neanderthals inside it, celebrating a mastodon hunt.
Yes, Fio likes the odd logs, the crooked and twisted ones, the crotched ones, the ones with weird angles, the unconventional ones.
But then, as you may have guessed, Fiorella is somewhat unconventional herself.
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