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Ukrainian artist Kseniya Simonova uses sand painting, a giant light box, music and imagination to tell the story of Germany's WWII invasion and occupation of Ukraine. She recently garnered international attention by winning Ukraine's version of "America's Got Talent."

n the winter I have a morning meditation. It starts in October and ends in April. It is one I have to do in the morning whether I like it or not, more to the case whether I want to be warm or not. Before morning tea or toast with sleep still in my eyes I must create fire.

It's a simple and essential art to bring flame to hearth, to make the wood stove roar and the house warm. There is little thought that goes into it, the movements are the same for 180 days but as in all art forms so much relies on attention to detail. The right paper, the right size kindling, the right placement and right level of oxygen all subject to the most important ingredient - the right amount of patience.

Each winter morning for that short time my focus is unaltered until I hear the crackle and pop of success. It is then I am free to set the kettle to boil and pop the bread in the toaster after which I can return, satisfied and at ease, breakfast in-hand to indulge in hypnosis of flame. All those who have a wood stove know its joy despite the chainsaws and chimney fires. It is the later in fact that renew your devotion to making the fire just right, bringing the attention to flame that the home hearth desires.

I am grateful for this morning ritual, a treat and necessity of winter that furnaces my own love of home and hard work. I have come to, in fact, feel sorry for all the people a switch and dial removed from such an experience. My sympathies extend even to those basking in the sun and sand of some tropical beach whose only flame is barbeque or tiki torch.

All the summers chopping till back was sore, the arm loads of wood carried from from wood shed to house, and the gumboots at dawn to fetch the driest kindling evaporate in the morning's flame. All the work that spark's my winter's affair with warmth are replaced by naked yoga in the loft, sleeping on top of covers through December's snow fall and tea at dawn with eyes lost in the flame.