Time for a roaring fire

After a rainy and recession-dampened Bonfire Night in my neck of the woods, I began to think wistfully of enormous medieval fireplaces, logs cut from the woods by peasants in grubby tunics, the warm glow of a winter fire. Then I thought of a poem about firewood from the 1930s: '..Apple wood will scent your room,/Pear wood smells like flowers in bloom...'

Then I found this picture, February from the Tres Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, which says it all, from the woodcutter in the top right to ...