I am fortunate to have a large backyard. The latest trend here in my neighborhood is to take your large yard, subdivide and build a house. It doesn’t give a person much green space. The neighborhood is still very green, with tree-lined streets and little traffic, whic is very appealing. I like my yard. I can mow and trim the grass in about an hour. And I can have a fire. About two years after we moved into the house, my wife made an inquiry with the fire department about have a fire pit in the backyard. The fireman answering the phone wanted to know if she was planning to roast hot dogs. Wanting to be on the up-and-up, my wife replied that all she wanted to do was have a small fire. She just wanted to sit and relax around the firepit, but the fireman was insistant that, yes, she was planning to roast hotdogs. My wife then got the jist of the fireman’s question and told him that she was planning on having a fire to roast hotdogs. As far as we know, as long as we keep a bucket of water or keep the garden hose handy, we could keep the home fires burning for as long as we wished.
And so we did last night. What made it more enjoyable was the coolness of the night air. I am not a big fan of hot and humid weather. If you strip down to your birthday suit and you still can’t get cool, then it’s too damn hot. I couldn’t live in the tropics or the deep South. I like to cool of a New England autumn and, thanks to Canada, the occassional weather system to cool off a hot summer night. I know that mid June doesn’t really qualify, but it was a night to bring out the heavy sweatshirts and light up the fire pit. We bring out the folding camp chairs, our favorite adult beverages and stare at the flames. It’s so relaxing, so hypnotic.