Campfire

7-30-2018

Spent another delightful summer day in the Adirondacks, lazing in my hammock up by the tent, in the cooler shade of the forest. Yes, when dinner time rolled around, I started another small camp fire to cook some more hot-dogs. Why is food cooked over an open fire so delicious? Does it tap into some instinctive primal hunting urge? A vestigial remnant of evolutionary survival left over from our earliest ancestors. But oh yes those wieners smell good sizzling over the dancing yellow and orange flames. And they sear up nicely with a crisp outer skin that pops when you bite it. MMMM, that hot-dog goodness. Endless summer is here! Relaxing by the camp fire watching the forest get dark around me.

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Smoke Drifting Through Trees

7-24-2018

I started a small campfire up at my tent today. I walked all around collecting from the amply supple of burnable sticks on the ground. Most of it is damp from yesterdays wetness, but if I get a small hot fire going with kindling then it can dry out the bigger stuff and it will burn too. That is exactly what I did. Over the course of the afternoon, I managed to burn most of what I collected. This fire ring I built is small, about two feet in diameter, mostly for camping ambiance more than anything. Although I did cook some hot-dogs on a stick over it for lunch. I have found that a small fire needs more continuous maintenance that a larger fire. The smaller fuel sticks burn down faster and need to be replaced more often. It was kind of fun to keep the fire going; placing the wet wood around the small blaze to dry before pitching it in to burn. I sat in my camp chair warming my feet on the hot rocks, reading, and daydreaming. Then moved over to the hammock to swing and daydream some more while I watch the ethereal blue smoke drift lazily around the trees in the calm air. The tangy smell of burning embers made me feel tranquil and in complete harmony with the world around me. Watching the smoke waft around slowly meandering through the tree trunks, I felt as if I truly belong in this place, these woods, here and now; my being expanding and contracting with the smoke on the breeze, lingering and then swirling away into the heavens.