Beauty of the Fire

Sparks fly above the brush pile fire on the pond last night.
Sparks fly above the brush pile fire on the pond last night.

I have waxed romantic about burning my brush piles in the past (here, here, here, herehere, and here), and last night was just as romantic and meditative as ever. The weather was calm and cool.

I should probably mention that few things burn as fiercely and noisily, or make as much smoke, as refrigerator doors.
I should probably mention that few things burn as fiercely and noisily, or make as much smoke, as refrigerator doors.

The pile was a secondary one I made from branches around the pond, so the pile was on the dry center of the pond. You can make up any joke you want about my pond catching fire… I certainly did so last night.

One thing about listening to music last night: I was really chasing it. I had my finger on the “next” button of my  iPod Shuffle, and as a song came on, I would skip it in a second or two, trying to find the right song for my mood, which changed as soon as I let a song play.

I thought of everyone and everything. If you are reading this, I was thinking about you.

Branches from dead trees around my pond hang off my brush pile fire last night, with our house in the distance.
Branches from dead trees around my pond hang off my brush pile fire last night, with our house in the distance.

1 Comment

  1. Beautiful pictures.

    It certainly sounds romantic/peaceful. It sounds like a money-making idea: “a night around the campfire; only 12 bucks!” I can think of many city slickers like myself who’d find that valuable.

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