The morning started with rain that coated everything, and I mean everything in a shiny film of ice. The matches would not strike. Two hours later the fire was still smoking, barely. But the sky cleared and the day smelled as spring- that pungent thawing mucky aroma that produces sucking sounds underfoot. The heat of the day that followed afforded reading aloud of Byatt's Elementals. Numerous people happened by to share teas, ice and fire stories and help me tend to the fire. Some even joined me in flinging off hats and coats and sit in the sun without speaking a word. Today's fire was one of plentitude- a bonfire that grew significantly towards dark-fall and consumed more than half the wood pile to make a significant island of soppy mud of the site. I gained a great deal of clarity around the work in this tending period. Felt that I entered into the performance space fully with the ability to move sensibly within its parameters and play with its durational figure.