Arsonists and Old Lace

In the asphalt jungle, we lived under a "no burn" notice, which never made a whole lot of sense to me. There we were, living mostly on concrete and blacktop, and we weren't allowed to burn our trash. Any fires in town were always labeled "suspicious", like nothing could ever burn there by itself. There were days, when the boys were little, that they would sit out front with a magnifying glass torching blades of grass, leaves, and the occasional innocent ant. I would always hover nearby, saying mom-things like "you be careful with that, or you'll burn the whole neighborhood down". I don't know why I bothered. The firehouse was only three blocks away, and we had "live-in" firemen. "Live-in" in the sense that they were always in the bowling alley on the other side of the firehouse, so there was a pretty good chance there'd be at least one guy in a team shirt who could get the firetruck to your home in time.

Contrast that with life here in the field. We can burn whatever we want, and no one asks any questions. Well, my husband says you "can't burn whatever you want, but people do it anyway". On my morning drives to work, I daily pass the same elderly farmer taking out the trash. He's always all dressed up, so I'm not sure exactly what, or who, he might be burning, but it is definitely a button-up occasion. After crossing the road, he tosses his bag in the ditch, lights it up, and goes back inside for breakfast.  No one stops their car and knocks on the door to tell him the other side of the road is on fire, and no one worries about burning the neighborhood down. It's just fire, and we love to play with it here. If it escapes the confines of the pit, well, somebody will see the smoke eventually. Then, they'll call the volunteers (God bless them all), who have to leave work, drive over hill and dale to the fire station,  get the trucks, and make their way back to the site. We have seven smoke detectors in our house, two fire extinguishers, and four exit doors. That would be why. Plus, there were those two small incidents when I was burning trash, and set the field on fire, so I can't be trusted. The good news is, my fire extinguishers are always fresh, because I have used them so many times.

Today, I built a bonfire. Bonfires are an acceptable form of country entertainment and waste disposal. Basically it's burning your trash, with beer. You don't burn that. Well, you do, kind of, if your metabolism is high enough. I don't drink, and I didn't have any company, so this wasn't a very social bonfire. I did talk to the rooster if that counts.  A little newspaper, a couple of matches, some old cedar shingles, and I got a nice little blaze going. The only drawback is that I'll have to hide when the family comes home. "Honey, have you seen my______?" Oh, um, was it in the living room, or on the back porch? "Yes." Try the burn pit.

I'm going to go out and throw another old piece of furniture on the fire. If you're bored, come over. Bring a chair, the fire's getting low.




*this blogging thing is brand new to me. If this is something you like to read, please follow me. If not, at the end of the week, I'm going back to facebook posts LOL*