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There is nothing like the image of a turf fire to carry you through the wilds of winter in search of solace. Driving through Connemara last Friday night, the twilight mountains turning to dark, the moon reflecting off the glasslike lakes painting the vistas between Recess and Clifden a wonderful mixture of blue and black, I longed to arrive at my destination and to feel the heat of orange flames on my face, to lay down my weary self, and to give myself over to hosts tasked with reenergising me with fine food, fine wines, and a hearty welcome.