Burning Brush

My DH and I bought ourselves a firepit for our anniversary.  While we were out in SoCal, our neighborhood had a weekly happy hour.  Since California is cold in the evenings, one of the neighbors dragged out a firepit and lit a fire for us to huddle around.  So firepits have great memories for me and when faced with what to get for our thirty-first wedding anniversary, a firepit sounded perfect.

Luckily, we've had a month or two of wet weather.  Lots of snow, ice and rain.  The ground, although covered with dead grass, is wet like a sponge.  Squishy.  So, having a fire in the backyard seemed like a safe and reasonable idea.  I mentioned to DH that we should light one up... thinking of the stack of split logs in the lean-to in our backyard.  He nodded in the affirmative and I got busy.

When next I looked up, DH had used the opportunity to light a fire with the dried logs.  Then he went through all the flowerbeds and pulled in all the dead fall, brush and limbs.  There was a HUGE pile of brush he drug up into the center of the yard.  After my eyes quit bugging out, I went and got my hand shears and went to work.

For hours, I stood in the lovely 50 degree weather and stripped limbs and twigs off branches and fed them to the fire.  We all smelled like campfire after a while.  We mused on our lack of graham crackers and chocolate bars.  We might have toasted marshmallows, I did have some of those, but we mostly just enjoyed the process and cleared away the brush.

I have two large dogs.  One, Chip, is an old man.  He's a chow chow/shepherd mix and has a long fluffy black coat.  The other dog, Sophie, is a shepherd mix with a short coat of light brown fur.  She's gentle and needy and always shivering.  When she sidled up to the firepit and lay down, I thought, "look, she's cold and she's warming herself by the fire!"  Then, Chip sprawled out next to the firepit and knowing that he will happily lay on the center of a sheet of ice and act surprised when you want him to come inside, I thought, "he wants to be near to me."

Sophie entertained us by snapping at the ash that lifted in the air.  Much like a dog might snap at a flying bug to try to catch it midair, she was jumping and snapping at the ash and embers that flew.  When she caught one, she'd cough and retch.  Then go right back to trying to catch more.  Chip just laid there.  Like a rug.  Until I noticed his coat smoldering.  He was on fire.  And he never moved or noticed.

I shouted and the dogs jumped up and started running around.  I said, "Quick, Chip's on fire, pat it out!"  My husband and I spent a comic couple of moments trying to get the dog to stop running and dodging so that we could knock the burning ember off his coat.  What a bone headed dog.  On fire and no idea.  My husband assured me that if the fire had gotten close to his skin, the dog would have rolled on the ground... but all I can see is that stupid dog running around with a trail of smoke pouring off his black fur.

So, note to self: While burning the firepit, keep a hose handy in case the dogs set on fire.

--Sandee Wagner