First Fire

Tonight we built our first fire.  This mark-it-down event followed a glorious day--sky so deep blue clear overhead you could almost drown in it.

Dusk and fire 

It seemed like most of the Things I get (got) to do today had been centered around locating a gallon of wood protector/sealer for my kiwi trellis--driving and phoning and driving.  It was splendid being out to see the blossoms and beauties; I drank it all in and had a second helping with no guilt.  I had, after all, finally located the sealer and was driving to fetch it.





After dinner when my husband suggested wrapping up this magnificent day by having our first fire of the season in the chiminea, I melted in agreement. No rush.  No traffic. No going. Only a crackling fire and gentle smoke. Sublime closure.

Out to the Woodshed--Roofed and Loaded

This morning is chilled.  No visible sun.  My ears do not like my work hairdo today.  Folks with short hair and bare ears must suffer in the winter!  A wool scarf accents my "outfit" by wrapping over the work hat, ears and around the neck, tied in back--be grateful there is no picture of this.

None of that really matters because roofing the woodshed with reclaimed 1x6 cedar boards is top of the Things I get to do today. A split second after roofing is finished, collecting all the wood and stacking it in its brand-new, luxury accommodations will be "top" since both are on my "mission" list.

Warm gratitude swells up over the roof boards already being cut and ready to go.  My assistant/consultant/husband shows me a time-saving way, "how the big boys would do it," he calls it, to position each row of roof boards.  We position them together.  I screw them down.  The sky starts to spit as we place the last one.

The finished beauty

No time to waste.  I measure and cut the sides.  My "assistant" mans the cordless drill, screwing them in place.  Measure, cut, fasten.  Measure, cut, fasten.  It is beginning to sprinkle.  It's noon straight up as the last board is in place, including vertical section supports inside to keep the wood in place.

Yard-side view--perfect blend
Notice in right distance wood to be gathered

The rain is serious, but we aren't and don't care at all. Since I love to stack wood, that's my job while my husband wheels barrow after barrow from all over and dumps it within my reach.

Dry wood in the left compartment;
Center is still a bit wet;
Right side is full of  fresh trims from
the Apple Tree Face Lift

Every stick is stacked and stored.  Let it rain. And it's supposed to do that for the next full week. Since I make trip after trip "out to the Woodshed" to admire its handsome, elegant, practical, perfect suitedness, I'm noticing the rain.

Sweet roof.  The water runs right off!
It was tested immediately.

Practically invisible from the main patio

 We are eager to spend many evenings watching the fire and soaking up starlight.  

The end: but, of course, really the beginning.

Burning Dirt

New meaning to "dead wood"

It looked like dirt.  As I gather up fuel for the fire--wood that had been cut at least ten years ago--it suddenly struck me. This decomposing wood was now closer to being soil than it was to the tree it had once been. But will dirt burn in the fireplace?

Over the holidays relatives came for a visit.  Memorable, remarkable, wonderful times in the making.  And I wanted to use the fireplace, have a cozy fire or a roaring blaze for a good part of that time.  Our weather has been brisk and often raw over the last couple of  weeks.  A fire seemed like a sensible as well as sensuous solution.  And the practical part of me wanted to clean up a nuisance ten-year-old wood pile that was past its prime, was collecting bugs and had started to rot.

I asked my husband to "chop" the chunks that were too big.  The resulting "wood" pile looked more like rubble from an earthquake and dirt.  That was what was available, so that is what we would use.  Experimenting with fire and "dead" wood blazed through the Things I get to do today, as I tended the hearth all day.

We sat by it, snuggled up to it, gazed into it and enjoyed it.  The coaxing and inviting warmth drew us in, closer to it and closer to each other.  Truly, under the right conditions, dirt wood burns.

Tree ghosts ignited together, warming our family gathering