One of These Days

/ Richard R. Barron

Yesterday was “one of these days,” as in, “One of these days I’m going to get around to burning that brush pile.”

My north brush pile began 13 months ago when a severe thunderstorm tore down some large limbs in two of my maple trees and Abby’s 100+year-old walnut.

This is my north brush pile at the height of burning last night.
This is my north brush pile at the height of burning last night.

I had built this pile in the north pasture, quite far away from anything it might threaten, like houses, sheds, other trees, and so on, but I still wanted to burn it in a no-wind condition, and last night was perfect.

I had attempted to burn this mountain of everything from full-sized tree trunks to twigs and leaves, but found on two previous occasions that it was too wet.

Last night I tried to light a bundle of grass and hay kindling under it, but it wasn’t until I stuffed a couple of editions of The Ada News under it that I was able to get it going, after which there was no stopping it.

Now I need to vow that I will burn brush before it gets high and wide, maybe once a month.

I love the way a big fire looks and smells when it goes to coals, especially in the evening when the coals glow deep orange and the ashes catch the blue of the last light in the sky.
I love the way a big fire looks and smells when it goes to coals, especially in the evening when the coals glow deep orange and the ashes catch the blue of the last light in the sky.