Fire

Yesterday was burn day. The burn pit is about 75 yards from the house; about 25 feet across and 6 feet deep. During the summer we have huge bonfires with flames shooting up 35. It lights up the night pretty good.

Yesterday's was a work burn. Long lasting, low level fire meant to get rid of leftovers and castaways. Weasel boy’s hated junipers; he pulled them out and put in fruit trees and blueberries. Old barn boards, some more than 22 inches wide but so rotten they break in you toss them on the pile. Scraps from rebuilding the second floor of the barn. The remains of the spruce tree mowed down by a drunk driver last October. The needles sound like a rain storm when they burn. Trimmings from the apple tree. Odd shaped plywood scraps that have lived in the corners of the barn for decades and still haven’t found a use. The contents of my front shirt pocket. Oops; I think a chap stick and some phone messages and a few receipts. 100 year old hay leavings from the loft.

It was a good day to burn, wet ground, a small misty drizzle occasionally and no wind. It was also a good day because I got to use the chainsaw and the tractor and burn stuff. And hang out with Weaselboy, Eva, and Baby Amina along with Ryan and Girlface.

A fire is very egalitarian. Everything is burned equally. Weeds and fine walnut veneer from a nineteenth century bureau. The fire consumes each without regard of their former status.