Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Tree Trimming
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Friday Night Lights
One of the great things about living in the country is that you can burn brush and debris and not have to bundle it for the landfill. One of the bad things about living in the country is that you can burn brush even if you aren’t a qualified fire fighter.
We have had a tree trimmer out for the past couple of weeks taking down dead limbs from a summer storm. Our brush piles have grown to the size of two story buildings with no relief in sight. The trimmer asked if he could start burning some of the piles while he was working so that he could supervise them and make sure they didn’t get out of hand. The winds have been quite still and he is making a dent in all of the piles of debris. He seems to have some experience or training in brush burning, because he builds small, 3-foot piles and adds to them as the day goes by. (My approach would be to set the entire thing on fire and stand by with a small garden hose.) At the end of each day, I would go out and fuss with the embers to make sure they were out or sufficiently banked for the night.
On Friday, the breeze had picked up, so we made the decision not to burn. About 8:00 pm, I walked by the kitchen window and saw flames shooting into the air on the far side of the drive. I yelled, “Fire!” and my husband flew out of his recliner and raced to the window. Dolly dog started barking, and I knocked things off the counter in my haste to run to my shoes. With a quick, “Dolly stay!” I grabbed my cell phone as my husband grabed the keys to the truck along with a shovel (I guess we were going to beat it to death).
My heart was racing as I think that we have set an entire field on fire. I quickly called my neighbor as they could be trapped if the fire crossed their driveway, and I asked my husband if I should call 911. He suggested that I wait until we could see what was going on first (God bless him). As we backed out of the garage and looked toward the field, we realized the fire wasn’t where we thought it was.
It turns out that our new neighbor had built a bon fire two stories tall to invite the local high school football team and fans out to celebrate a football rivalry. His driveway is lined with tiki torches and half the town was invited. This gives a whole new meaning to Friday night lights!
Since I have mobilized neighbors who have called neighbors who have called . . . well you get the idea, I now have to start making calls that explain what is going on. I seem to be having a little problem with fire out here.
We have had a tree trimmer out for the past couple of weeks taking down dead limbs from a summer storm. Our brush piles have grown to the size of two story buildings with no relief in sight. The trimmer asked if he could start burning some of the piles while he was working so that he could supervise them and make sure they didn’t get out of hand. The winds have been quite still and he is making a dent in all of the piles of debris. He seems to have some experience or training in brush burning, because he builds small, 3-foot piles and adds to them as the day goes by. (My approach would be to set the entire thing on fire and stand by with a small garden hose.) At the end of each day, I would go out and fuss with the embers to make sure they were out or sufficiently banked for the night.
On Friday, the breeze had picked up, so we made the decision not to burn. About 8:00 pm, I walked by the kitchen window and saw flames shooting into the air on the far side of the drive. I yelled, “Fire!” and my husband flew out of his recliner and raced to the window. Dolly dog started barking, and I knocked things off the counter in my haste to run to my shoes. With a quick, “Dolly stay!” I grabbed my cell phone as my husband grabed the keys to the truck along with a shovel (I guess we were going to beat it to death).
My heart was racing as I think that we have set an entire field on fire. I quickly called my neighbor as they could be trapped if the fire crossed their driveway, and I asked my husband if I should call 911. He suggested that I wait until we could see what was going on first (God bless him). As we backed out of the garage and looked toward the field, we realized the fire wasn’t where we thought it was.
It turns out that our new neighbor had built a bon fire two stories tall to invite the local high school football team and fans out to celebrate a football rivalry. His driveway is lined with tiki torches and half the town was invited. This gives a whole new meaning to Friday night lights!
Since I have mobilized neighbors who have called neighbors who have called . . . well you get the idea, I now have to start making calls that explain what is going on. I seem to be having a little problem with fire out here.
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