Morning fire and some chemistry
Plus, all the dog references fit to print
We’ve changed some habits around our house since the kids have gone to college. Fewer groceries. Meals that only we’d like (welcome back, salads with beets and cottage cheese). Weekends are a ramble instead of a hustle.
If I had the full dream, I’d be spending my non-work time in transit. Change comes in waves, and this one washed in an itch to see the world again. When I had my first teaching job, it felt like such magic and unspeakable privilege to make a plan and save money then just … travel to a place, one I couldn’t imagine through a book or a news story. I was equally happy on a plane or in my ’87 Honda Civic with a dog and a tent in back, wandering towns and timbers, building a Sunday morning campfire before returning home to few responsibilities but a load of laundry and class on Monday. After decades living a different kind of life, this is possible for me again.
But right now my partner is more anchored in place. His job keeps him close. Pottery class at the art center is right up the road. When the nest was full, Jim didn’t make many things only for himself. We built a few houses for our family. He made good meals and fixed me a fair share of cocktails. The pottery is just for him, and a quality wheel isn’t so portable, though we did once see a lady at her campsite working on a full-blown sewing machine.
A Dog and more fire. I’m not the only one advising you to Drop it like it's hot.
After nearly three decades together, we know compromise. Still, we’re individuals. We live in a place that has a fairly distorted view of tradition, so maybe because of that we’re not very traditional people. But we can be slow moving. Which helps when the timing is off.
For now, as we’re putting together what the rest of our story looks like (Gen X being the one that quietly redefines everything), I can live with just the Sunday morning campfire part. We have fire sources in the house, but a good rager outside feels like you’re somewhere else instead of the yard. We’ve been lighting them further into winter, as the weather has been weird.
For a while, we used a huge old metal bowl, probably something I found at a garage sale. I’ve dragged the old metal bowl to the property edge and around the driveway. I burned a novel draft in it once, then felt like it was cursed by a poorly drawn character (that’s why I burned it, Miriam, ease up). Anyway, Jim upgraded to a bougie outdoor stove not long after that.
Our neighborhood is at the edge of the city, with lots of old oak trees nearing the end of their life span. When they fall in our yard—it’s happened several times; spring thunderstorms here are Biblical—we cut the wood and use it. I have my own smallish chainsaw. Hundreds of years of energy are held inside each tree. We cut more wood than we need, enough to lend to neighbors, enough that it feels like no waste to transform the yard into a Sunday morning campground when we feel like it.
I like to tent-pile the smaller pieces with sticks underneath. I cheat with a firestarter. It’s fun to mess around and rearrange until something takes hold, releasing all that sun power. I tend to stand way too close. When I was a kid, I caught fire doing this. I was wearing one of those nightgowns made of fabric that melts not burns, but my brothers quickly rolled me out and notified our parents that Jennifer was on fire but now she’s not and it’s almost time for Love Boat. Maybe because they were both so nice about it, and the whole process was calm and efficient, I continued to start and read by and stand too close to a fire. Shooting a lick of flame onto broken twigs and grass until they catch, watching the elements transform to take us all to another place, I am for this type of chemistry.
It’s all good for this Aries, for now.
No Analog Mix Tape this week. Snuggled in with family and friends. But I did try to get this live action shot to loop for you! It doesn’t. (C’mon, Substack!) Anyway, you can hit PLAY a few times on this instead. Plus: Dog cameo!
I recall one brother was more involved with dousing the Jenniflame. The other brother was more concerned with his TV love - Captain Stubing’s daughter.
I absolutely love this post and all the feels it evokes about the passage of time, compromise, and staying close to the fire -- all the fires that keep you going and changing. Thank you for sharing this.