It must be the biggest irony of my life that I should inherit a coal stove. Coal emits 40% more greenhouse gases per unit of heat than even oil (which we use too). We set the thermostat at fifty Fahrenheit when we go away so the pipes don’t freeze; if we burn coal on the first night back, we can bring the main room into the middle sixties in a few hours (as opposed to a day).
Trouble is I also love that coal warmth by the table. I think it’s the sense of direction, that feeling of heat coming from somewhere. Your face is warm, your back not as much. You move away from the stove if you’re hot; you hover your hands over it when you come in from the cold. It is heating as human beings have known it since we tamed fire (and till we invented baseboard heating). Compare that to the stultifying uniformity, the lack of choice, the corporate tyranny, the competing demands of the frustrated citizenry of anonymous central heating.