Sentence examples for turf fires from inspiring English sources

This is the original part of the inn: more turf fires, a black range, time-worn wooden chairs, the sort of place which turns lousy weather (or a sore throat) into an excuse to settle in for the duration.

To read O'Brien is not only to succumb to her sibyl's vision of other people's fates, it's to fall under the spell of her singular, potent language, which clings to the tactile realities of another century's earthier, guiltier sensibility — to bogs and turf fires, to poverty and proud airs, lust and furtive ­passions.

Scotch gets a smoky flavor from the peat and turf fires used to dry the grain that goes into it; the malted barley that goes into Irish is dried in closed kilns over smokeless anthracite fires, so the whiskey has a clear, milder taste.

Chimneys should be built in each work room and turf fires lit in them to give better ventilation and combat contagion by their "strong, penetrating, and pungent" smoke.

There is a turf fire in the grate, the sods brought from Lough Neagh for Christmas.

They'd been out all morning, scaling the cliffs with numb hands, fighting the wind, and now they were sharing a sandwich and a bottle of stout over a turf fire.

Oriental carpets soften wooden floors, the big sitting room has sink-in armchairs before the lovely turf fire, soft attractive watercolours, light streaming in through mint-green French windows.

Splash out and stay at Ballynahinch; curl up and read a chapter by a smokey turf fire and walk yourself to near exhaustion next day in the surrounding boggy landscapes.

In one of the village's two pubs -- which face each other and are owned by different members of the Hayes family -- Julia Hayes offered ham sandwiches and tea to a visitor as the smell of a turf fire filled the cool spring air.

There they join in the custom of the cuaird -- which, they explain, derives from the old Gaelic word for visiting but involves much more than that: "The dark was forgotten, the rain unheard, the wind that tunneled along the black and winding roads blew unnoticed, for the cuaird was on, the kettle was boiling above the turf fire, and the tart was being brought from the oven".

The passages look desolate and bare – our bedroom, a great room of the ground floor, would have looked gloomy when we were shown into it but for the turf fire that was burning in the wide old chimney".