Every year at about this time, we wake up, look outside and realize, this is the day to burn the pile of branches that accumulates over a year from pruning, blow down and general clean up around the place. This morning there was still a little snow on the ground which reduces any risk of the fire spreading into the woods across dry oak leaves and there was very little wind. A perfect day for burning.
After calling the fire department for permission, we got the fire started with a great conflagration and then it simmered along all day as we collected more branches large and small from around the property and threw them on top. The crowning moment every year is when we throw on the Christmas tree. A truly pagan ritual to celebrate the end of winter and coming of spring! Burn away the old! Bring in the new!
A surprise this year was found in the huge old stump that sits at the edge of the pile and burns a little more each year. Today several large horseshoes appeared as the fire ate away at the stump. Horseshoes lodged in the center of a tree. Now how did that happen? Maybe it was once two trees, or a double leader and someone left the horseshoes in the notch for safe keeping, and never made it back to get them. The tree simply grew around them. Whatever the reason, they were embedded in this tree.
A glimpse into generations past. My imagination has a field day. Did Minutemen saddle up their horses from this very plot and speed off to Concord to join the Revolution? Did the owner of the horse also clear our land for farming, throwing rocks onto the walls that now snake through our woods? Did he drag a plow behind the horse who wore these shoes to plant crops? Did the multitude of small colored glass bottles that we used to find when we put a shovel in the earth also belong to him?
We meant to go out and cook hotdogs over the coals as we always did when Carrie and Eliza were little. Hotdogs and marshmallows ended a day of burning as the sun went down.
Tonight, going out to check the remains of the fire after supper, we stood under a dark sky sad to have to douse the orange and red embers still glowing in the darkness. It always seems a shame to put out the last remains of a fire. The hiss of water on live coal is a sorry sound. Like putting out a good idea.
3 comments:
"The hiss of water on live coal is a sorry sound. Like putting out a good idea." I love this!
Good ideas and the embers of the fire both need to flicker and crackle and dye naturally or take hold of some new fuel and go where they will! The hiss of water on a live coal is indeed a sorry sound! Do you really have to do it? City of Lincoln mandate?
Yes we had to put out the fire, we shouldn't even have let it go past sunset. But most of all, a wind could come up and sparks spread through the woods, I couldn't sleep knowing that would be possible.
Meanwhile on the horseshoe story, I told my writing class about it and one person wondered if they were left there by people who tossed horseshoes for sport. A typical 1930's game which is when our house was built. So much for colonial times! But we will never know!
wonderful musings about the people who once lived on your land, there is so much rich potential there, maybe even a short story.... but my favorite thing about this piece is the last line, brilliant!
Post a Comment