Answer:
What flares up and does a lot of good, and when it dies is just a piece of wood?
My children are near and far. No matter that I know where they are. The gift I give them make their day. But if I were gone they would wander away.
Put into a pit, locked beneath a grate, guarded through the night, yet it still goes out.
It's been around for millions of years, but is never more than a month old. What is it?
A house full, a yard full, a chimney full, no one can get a spoonful.
If itβs information you seek, come and see me. If itβs pairs of letters you need, I have consecutively three. What am I?