The smaller of my two brush piles burns near the garden and the orchard last night. In November, I burned the one on the pond.
There are few things that can summon our true nature better than fire, particularly fire that serves the human purpose, survival. Fire can keep us warm, cook our food, mark our territory, and help us defend our village.
Great news! I have a field of cantaloupes! In years past, I found these impossible to grow, but this year might be “that’ year. In this image, I am holding a green cantaloupe about the size of a tennis ball.Fun fact about this image: I made it with the HP Photosmart M407, one of the 22 cameras I recently bought for $10 on Ebay. The image is surprisingly sharp for a 2004 vintage four megapixel camera.
We live far enough into the country that I am expected to burn my brush pile. A lot of us do it. There is no brush service. I made the mistake of missing a few windows of opportunity to burn last winter, and my main brush pile behind the orchard is too big, in my opinion, to burn in a single sitting safely.
Thus, I piled the second brush pile next to the big one, and have burned it twice.
My next door neighbors make a small fire three or more times a week.
I watered the garden while I kept an eye on the fire, and spotted this solitary ripe tomato, the first full-size tomato I’ve picked this season. I ate it when I came inside.
So, why do I blog every time I burn? I’ll ponder.
Fire dying to embers is very beautiful to me, especially when the coals take on a bluish tone.
1 Comment
“So, why do I blog every time I burn? I’ll ponder.”
I assume there is some primal association in our minds between fire and all kinds of things. How many millions of years BEFORE we controlled fire did evolution burn into our collective minds that fire is uncontrollable, dangerous, mysterious, godlike? And even once we figured out how to store and transport coals, corral fire into tiny cooking fires, and even start new fires at will — even then, fire brings up genetic memories of thousands of years of huddling around that one bit of warmth through the ice ages, that one bit of light while surrounded by predators, and a dozen other emotions and responses.
All of this gets jumbled when our brain’s center of emotion starts shooting mixed signals of chemicals. It makes us feel safe, but afraid at the same time. It makes us feel advanced, yet primitive at the same time. It reminds us of light AND dark at the same time.
Naturally, these are the kinds of experiences that make you want to write.
“So, why do I blog every time I burn? I’ll ponder.”
I assume there is some primal association in our minds between fire and all kinds of things. How many millions of years BEFORE we controlled fire did evolution burn into our collective minds that fire is uncontrollable, dangerous, mysterious, godlike? And even once we figured out how to store and transport coals, corral fire into tiny cooking fires, and even start new fires at will — even then, fire brings up genetic memories of thousands of years of huddling around that one bit of warmth through the ice ages, that one bit of light while surrounded by predators, and a dozen other emotions and responses.
All of this gets jumbled when our brain’s center of emotion starts shooting mixed signals of chemicals. It makes us feel safe, but afraid at the same time. It makes us feel advanced, yet primitive at the same time. It reminds us of light AND dark at the same time.
Naturally, these are the kinds of experiences that make you want to write.