It was pretty cold last week, just as the weather guy had warned us, so and I stocked up on fire logs in preparation for the first fire in my new woodstove.

I popped open the door and made the usual kindling teepee, then pulled out my secret weapon.

I don't mess with matches anymore since I've discovered the beauty the propane torch. I turned on the valve and hit the clicker and it sprang to life, the hot blue flame roasting the cedar twigs into a ball of fire.

In my haste, however, I forgot to fully open the air draw (just like I did with the old stove) and smoke began to pour into the house like crazy.

I ran around the house like a maniac opening windows, turning on fans and yelling at the poor dogs, who have never understood the ritual.

They think I'm having fun and they try to join in, running around me, yelping and spinning in circles. As the firebox smoldered and the smoke alarms blared, I sat down and thought about the complex relationship between humans and fire.

It's good, but it's also bad.

It's necessary for many reasons, but it's terrible if out of control.

Proximity is the key. If you are too close, you'll be burned, too far away and it's just wasted energy.

One could argue that fire is just a condensed form of sunlight, since the sun's created the trees that went into the making of firewood. And just like fire, if you get too close to the sun, or too far away, you will suffer.

We need the heat to survive. Though the Alaskan Aleut heritage that lurks in my personal history is one of enduring, mostly without the benefit of fire, convincing Mrs. A to cuddle up with me in a caribou hide blanket isn't very likely. So we burn wood and enjoy the radiant ambiance.

Each year, when I begin to collect my firewood for the season, I always pick up some extra to give to my father-in-law, the Famous Russian.

Besides being a well-known artist, architect and gourmet cook, my father-in-law was also a local fire commissioner.

Last winter, when I had my old, beat-up woodstove, he admonished me about chimney fires while he prepared another of his exotic Russian delicacies.

"SCOTT!...(the Famous Russian always seems like he's yelling, but it's just his way of saying I love you..) "You must clean and inspect your chimney every year...otherwise, you could have a 'szvarussschka zeminovshki!'"

I didn't know if I should call a chimney sweep or a cardiologist.

I nearly said "geshundheit," but the way he was looking at me while holding a large fillet knife, I thought better of it.

"Back in old country, we did not have your fancy smoke alarms!" he continued, "If dog wakes you up, you must run out of house...!"

He stared at me sternly, this time with one eyebrow cocked for emphasis.

"But, Papa," I said, "What if the dog is a cat?..Should we take our time running out of the house?"

"You make fun with me!...Is very serious to play with fire!" he said, waggling the knife at me.

I promised to have the chimney inspected, but in the end, I just took some old tire chains, put them in a burlap bag and rattled them around in the flue until Mrs. A saw the creosote fall into the stove bottom.

The Famous Russian had a good point about dog alarms, but even though they're loyal and protective, our dogs will wake us up if a squirrel is on the deck, a car drives by or if they're just bored.

If they smell smoke, they just assume I'm cooking again.

October, it turns out, is Fire Prevention Month here in the land of unsynchronized traffic lights (Federal Way). If you ask a local fire fighter, he or she will tell you that this is a good time to change out your smoke alarm batteries.

If you get a hankering to burn some leaves, learn CPR or just need to get our cat out of a tree, you can check out the frequently asked questions portion of the South King County Fire and Rescue's website at http://www.federalwayfire.org/faq.html