Skip to main content

Back Yard Fire

Neighbor Tim sent me some pictures recently of a fire he built in the back yard.  I loved them when I was up there.  Nothing quite like a nice warming blaze in the Fall.  Beer, friends, the big sky and those eerily spooky eyes, nose and mouth Carrie tacked to the tree.  These pictures are quite good and bring out interesting colors.


A match that's spent.  A failed attempt.
I must find wood that's drier.
A puff of smoke.  A flicker weak.
A flash! A flare! A fire!






The innocent flames seem hesitant,
Unsure of what to do.
Then, shed their childhood innocence
And roar to heights anew.





Strange shadows dance around my feet.
And sneak amongst the trees..
A sudden spark streaks to'rd the sky
Then settles near my knees.





Grey wisps of smoke curl around my head
Then fade into the night.
The pulsing coals, in brilliant red,
Are cubes of fierce delight.



The crackling logs disturb the night
With sudden sharp reply
To licking tongues of orange and red
That 'luminate the sky.



Then, are consumed by famished flames
That surge along their length.
Devouring in that searing heat
And sapping of their strength.



Soon, flames give way to glowing coals
That lie in reddened mass.
Then, as a yawn of sleep creeps o'er,
The coals are turned to ash.

Poem by Red Dog


Christopher Janey of BFE graces the last photo as he sidles up to the fire to keep warm.  The purples shown in some of the photos are as they came to me, no doctoring or editing.  Nice pictures and glad Tim took the time to send them.  We had a brief cool period a couple weeks ago but it has left and it is hot once more.  It's a wonder people who live in this place don't have mold growing on them.  Oh wait, I just checked my North side.  

A fire in the backyard.  Closing the windows on cool nights.  Getting the  electric blanket out of the closet.  The smell of burning leaves, legal or illegal.  Getting back into that hoodie that has been hanging up since last April.  Seeing Christmas stuff in the stores before Halloween. Tanner's Orchard.  Quick peak in the corner of the garage to make sure that the shovel is there. Apple cider. Fall.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Summer Swim

It's Monday and the start of another work week.  Except for me.  I have the week off because the parents of my daycare charges are taking the week off, too. This is one of those wordless posts I love on Mondays so I can put my laziness in full view of loyal readers.  These pics need no words.  Why muddy the waters?   They were taken at the pool at Sinkhole Estates aka Death Valley.  The nice thing about this pool is it is heated in winter.  If one must find positives in one's situation, I suppose that is one.  But, please, no more.   

Flashback Friday

Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless.  Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001.  It was one of those things that can generate crime:  two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job.   Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things.  Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold.   But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find.   His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead.  He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds.  He will be paralyzed for life.   None of this is pleasant.  Reading the facts of the murder and attempted murder are most unpleasant