I swore off burning a few years ago, and things went well. I composted much of the limbs and stuff, so burning seemed a waste of material. But things begin to pile up. Storms blew down some larger limbs, I had three trees too close to the house taken down, I cut them up and added all of this to the firepit.

In the meantime, it rained and rained and rained. The firepit became an island. Then it rained some more.

And then the hurricane hit.

Room for limbs, branches, and tree debris has run out, but the firepit is flooded, and I mean over knee-deep in water.

It’s not like I can start a fire on a pile of stuff that’s surrounded by water, can I?

It’s the Equinox. I want to build a fire.

I need to build a fire.

Here’s the firepit. Water, water, everywhere. And it’s deep. Right there in front of the pile, there’s a drop off and the water is waist deep. Hmmm, but approached from the side, it’s only a bit over knee deep or so.

Here’s the issue: This pile is fine where it is, but I have a yard full of stuff. Wading out to the island to add more stuff is going to be no fun, and if I can’t burn it, that means when the water goes away, the pile will resemble a nuclear bomb going off when it burns. The trees around this area are my primary concern. I don’t want them harmed by a giant fire. If I can burn enough new stuff, and enough old stuff on the Island of Branches, that’s best case. But can I even get a fire started out there on the island?

Okay, I got the fire going. How much can I do with it? I have to carry the branches over my head to get them into the fire. But the fire has awaken my inner Firesmith. I feel a yearn, a yearn to burn.

Laborious, is the word of the day. Grab a branch, hold it over my head, wade out to the pile, try to toss it in at the best point, wade back out, rinse and repeat. But I figured out the path in and out, shuffle instead of trying to lift my feet too high, and go slow. The fire goes better than expected. I really though the embers would fall through into the water, but there’s enough fuel in the pile, and it has been compressed tight enough, the fire build up enough heat to feed. And feed it does. The third or fourth trip it I see some of the larger pieces of wood burning brightly. I can feel the heat. This is working. More fuel, please.

After an hour or so, I take a break and move around for some photos. The fire is building up and it’s time to stop. I can feel fatigue setting in. The trip back and forth through the water is wearing me out. But it feels good to get rid of two different piles of stuff, and dent the old pile, too.

Finally, it was time to stop. But I welcomed the Equinox in a manner befitting the change of season, reduced the piles considerable, and had a lot of fun playing with water and fire. This is the type of thing I would have loved as a kid, and love it still, I do. How many of you have stood in thigh deep water and felt the heat of a fire you built on an Island of Branches?

How many of you remember wanting to do things like this before you became an adult?

Note: Four hours later, this thing is still smoking.

Take Care,

Mike