Fire and Juniper

I spent a chilly weekend in the woods last week, warmed by fire-making, a good tweed skirt and lots of stories. I was on a bushcraft weekend with Willow Lohr, an inspiring woman who was teaching us to make amidu, the tinder carried by Otsie the iceman, lighting it with flints and steel, making feather sticks and lots of other incendiary tricks. So if I’m in a survival situation I now appreciate the preciousness of a box of matches.   Claire Hewitt was telling stories too, which blended beautifully into a weekend spent sitting around fire.   Our fire circle was under the cover of an old parachute strung under a majestic old pine and we scavenged for dead juniper twigs to make wonderfully fragrant, almost smoke free fire (which is why juniper was so liked by illegal distillers in the days of whisky stills up in the hills).  It was a beautiful piece of woodland at Crathie, near Balmoral and with the biggest goat willow tree I think I’ve ever seen amongst all the old pines, birches and juniper. And it was almost too cold for midges, so an added treat for an already great weekend.