Posts Tagged ‘fire’
House Fires
There are two times when the topic of house fires gets a lot of attention in most people’s lives. One is during fire prevention events, and the other is when someone’s house burns. It’s not a comfortable topic for conversation. To those who have lost a home to fire, I suspect their lives get divided into “before” and “after” the fire.
In the early morning hours yesterday, one of Cyndie’s brothers woke to a smoke alarm going off, and he and his son were able to get out of the back door unharmed. They stood with neighbors and watched the conflagration for twenty minutes before the firefighters arrived.
One day, everything is fine, and then a day later, lives are in ashes. I’ve pondered this calamity many times in all the homes I have owned. What would I do if a fire were to break out?
Thankfully, I haven’t needed to find out.
This event has triggered a rash of fire memories for me. The most distant being a story my mother told of her mother’s night clothes erupting in flames from a space heater, I believe it was.
When my mom was in the WAVES during WWII and stationed in Miami, FL, there was a fire in her family home in Minneapolis that took the life of her father.
When I was a kid, a family that my parents knew lost everything to a house fire. I remember selecting some of my toy cars to contribute to a care package that my mom and dad were putting together in response. The thought of that family losing everything made a big impression on me.
In the Eden Prairie neighborhood where Cyndie and I raised our kids, there were four house fires on our street over the 25 years we were there. One across the street from ours burned two different times with different owners. The first incident occurred from a candle in an upstairs bedroom, and the second involved an electrical issue in a basement office filled with reams of paper.
Another house got hit by lightning, which caused a smoldering fire in the rafters.
The last fire in that neighborhood happened on a Saturday afternoon. Cyndie spotted the telltale smoke in the air and yelled to call 911 because there was a house on fire. The owner was standing in the driveway, dumbfounded. He told her there were propane tanks in the garage. Somehow, she moved his car out of the driveway. I stayed up on the street corner to wave emergency responders in the right direction.
I vividly remember the loud cracking and popping sound of a ferocious fire gaining energy by the second as I waited anxiously for too many minutes before the sound of the first fire engine siren came into range. It felt like an eternity, and it was excruciating.
Since this topic has arisen because another house has gone up in flames, why not use the occasion to review your home fire preparedness?
Today, we are extremely grateful that Cyndie’s brother and nephew are alright, and we are sending them love and well wishes for a speedy recovery from the devastating loss of their home and the dramatic disruption of their life routines.
Life, after the fire.
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Unexpected Fireworks
As Cyndie was about to serve the horses their dinner last night around the time the sun was setting, the tranquility was disrupted by the sound of fireworks exploding.
I was listening to music at the time and spotted a text from Cyndie urging me to step outside to hear “crazy sounds.” I had been aware of something going on outside but discounted it as likely the sound of a neighboring farmer harvesting crops or some other activity.
Opening the door brought the instant clarity of the sound of fireworks. Not typical fireworks that pop in a planned sequence but non-stop, chaotic pops and bursts that told me this was an out-of-control event. It wasn’t dark enough yet for fireworks, anyway. Through the tree branches that obscured my view from the deck, I could tell a large smoke plume was rising into the sky.
I stepped back inside to grab binoculars that allowed me to spot bursts of color happening at the bottom of the billowing smoke. Those were fireworks all right. The peak of the bursts was just barely visible above the horizon.
I have no idea what distance away from us that would place the fire but I double-checked the overhead view on the map to verify I was looking toward the little hamlet of Beldenville. I just don’t know at this point if it was that close or some greater distance beyond. There has been no obvious evidence that I’ve noticed that would explain why a large number of fireworks are stored in the vicinity.
We checked the neighborhood app and looked at multiple news sources but couldn’t find any immediate explanation being posted. The popping sound of small shots lingered for over four hours lending credence to the belief the conflagration was newsworthy.
In this age of instant information available on the internet, I discovered my lack of participation in the multitude of social media applications leaves me out of the loop when something like this occurs. Maybe someone was streaming live video and I just didn’t know how to find it.
If anyone discovers what happened around here last night, point me to where you found the story.
Maybe I’ll finally get around to finding a scanner that monitors local emergency response calls. We don’t hear sirens in the area very often, so when we do it usually leaves us wondering what has happened.
Seeing the smoke plume and hearing the exploding fireworks made it pretty obvious what was happening, we just don’t know how close it was happening.
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Fire Fun
Sunday was no rest day from work, even though we were graced with a visit from family. We started a fire to burn a couple of tree root bundles along with the remains of the brush pile we chipped the day before. While that was burning, I used the chainsaw to cut logs out of the tree trunks that were too big for the chipper.
We had the ATV down there with the trailer full of tools, the tractor for lifting one of the tree roots onto the fire, and the pickup to carry all the logs back uphill for splitting into firewood. It looked like quite the activity center.
When visitors arrived, they were welcomed at the fire. While I stayed to supervise the burn, they headed up to the house for some lunch Cyndie had prepared. Bless her heart, she brought me down a serving of a fabulous stew/soup she made in the slow cooker using meat from our CSA share, courtesy of our neighbors at Walker Farms. It tasted extraordinarily good to my hungry appetite, standing in the great outdoors beside a stoked fire.
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Nieces and nephews brought all their youthful enthusiasm to interact with Delilah, walk the horses in the round pen, and help around the fire. Where there is fire, Cyndie’s container of s’more supplies is never far off.
Beck unknowingly handled the working end of the stick that had been used to stir the coals. Is it that obvious? Doesn’t really matter when there are marshmallows to be roasted.
The weather was perfect, with just enough wind to keep the fire energized, and just enough sunshine to feel comfortable outdoors.
After everyone was gone, and most of the equipment was put away, I walked back down to get the truck and to make sure the fire was done burning. It wasn’t, and I didn’t have the heart to extinguish it. It was a beautiful evening and I became mesmerized by the serenity of the fire, the horses nearby, the vista of fall colors, and the quiet that the end of the day offered.
Looking up at the trees that still block a view of our house, I noticed that we are at about 50% foliage. The last few days the leaves have been raining down heavily from some of the trees. The rest are not going to hold on to theirs much longer.
The season of more and more fire fun is upon us. Time to get that woodshed back up to cover our firewood. Probably also time for Cyndie to re-stock her tub of s’more supplies.
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Disappearing Act
It is that time of year again when piles of brush get burned into oblivion. This pile was on the top of the hill on the north side of our driveway. There was a moderate collection of fair-sized branches that had been there since before we arrived. A couple of days ago, I tossed on some cuttings I recently cleared that were leftover from when I mowed this area last fall.
That created a collection that was half-fresh-cut and half-long-dead. I wasn’t sure how it would burn, because the old wood was damp from the recent rain, and there was a gusty wind that could help, or it could possibly drive it out of control.
I started daintily, pulling a small amount of debris off the pile to create a moderate fire, although, up wind of the rest of the fuel. I started on that side to take advantage of the wind, because I felt I needed it to cause the green wood to burn.
Progress was ideal and I enjoyed a fine afternoon by the fire. Cyndie made the trek all the way out on her crutches, and kept an eye on things while I took a break to walk the horses, one-at-a-time, off that damn muddy paddock and out where they could graze for a spell on the grass. After that last storm and its additional inch of rain, the little spot of grazing I fenced off for them is too soft for their weight and they will tear it to shreds if we let them on it.
When I got back to the fire, I found Cyndie had outdone herself with the cutest little burn pile ever, all clean around the edges, safely pulled away from the main one, making me think I may have over-stated my concern that she do it my way. She was sitting on a chair, weaving a basket out of the vines that were growing all over the ground up there. Being forced to use crutches does little to stop her ambitions, it just redirects her energy toward more creative pursuits.
It had turned into an absolutely gorgeous evening for a bonfire, so we decided I should head to the house to feed dog and cat, and then bring back a picnic dinner. That meant washing the manure and mud off of Delilah, before letting her inside.
That done, I picked up my bag of food and headed for the door. Before I even opened it, I could see the flames through the glass. The entire pile was ablaze something fierce. I know the feeling of standing next to that. Elysa and I were present last year when one of our burn piles went rogue and roared alive with incredibly dramatic energy. I pictured Cyndie in that chair, hobbled by the healing hip, and my heart jumped a bit.
Luckily, this pile wasn’t quite that large, and although dramatic, it was not a catastrophic event. I arrived with the bag of food and prepared to make a joke about her little clean pile burning safely on the side. She asked if she could tell me something funny.
She was sitting there as the fire appeared to be burning itself out, and was fretting over having let it burn out while I was gone, by not adding enough new fuel to the side fire. Knowing I could just re-kindle the burn, she decided to stay seated. Without doing a thing, the core of the pile ignited!
Fire is not to be trifled with. Kids, don’t try this at home.
We dined by the warm fire on a chilly evening at sunset, lingering until after dark, when our shadows eventually appeared in the moonlight. A spectacularly magnificent experience for us once again at Wintervale. Cyndie used my camera to take a few more pictures after dinner…
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Meditative Burning
It rained Sunday night, but that didn’t stop me from reigniting the brush pile yesterday afternoon. It is a fascinating exercise to witness the ebb and flow of fire energy, as it slowly, but surely consumes tree root bundles. You can’t leave it untended, if you want to make constant progress. There is just too much moisture stored in the roots, and they don’t really want to burn. You need to keep feeding the fire wood that is dry enough to burn well, and stoke those coals to keep them glowing red-hot.
Still, the fire will tend to grow calm, as the burn consumes the immediately available fuel. It is mesmerizing. Then, a simple adjustment of the pile, by poking around in the coals, followed by the addition of some new wood, brings a rush of sound and fury. It is energizing.
I completely understand why someone I know explained that her husband took a picture of her when she was lured out to tend their brush pile burn, while still in her bathrobe. The task has that addicting allure.
Last night, I had a tough choice: the addiction of the fire, or the addiction of the NCAA men’s college basketball tournament championship game.
The brush pile will still be here today. The game won out last night.
Relative Something 