A Burn Pile Man Again!

At eight in the morning on a drizzling Tuesday, I became a burn pile man again.

For some reason, I was holding off firing up a five-foot pile I had built in my new back yard.

Elmer and I had returned from a glorious outing at Horsefall Beach and I looked out my back door, saw the pile, saw the drizzle, noticed the absence of any wind, and knew it was time.

Back on the Nestucca Bay National Wildlife Refuge where I served as caretaker for a decade, I was a burn pile master and lit hundreds of them, mostly from dead blackberries and rotten fences. I spent many a long hour tending piles and wrote many thousands and thousands of words in my mind. I also shared some of those burn piles with some special people.

Never once in my life have I used gasoline to ignite a pile and this one was no exception. I kindled fires on opposite side of the pile and lit them with matches. They immediately took.

The pile caught fire much faster than I thought. I hosed it down every now and then.

Elmer the husky was indifferent to the spectacle.

An hour later, the heat was intense and I was using the shovel to hoist wood, branches and brush into the center. If a pile is built correctly, it will collapse upon itself and continue to lessen its footprint.

That’s exactly what happened.

Muscle memory kicked in as I labored. I thought of my dad, not almost two months gone. He would be so pleased where I landed and how I have handled the estate.

I felt great that I could perform this kind of physical labor. So many American and men my age (and a lot younger) cannot or will not given the opportunity.

My dad taught me how to work hard and work well at manual labor. It must be taught on the ground. You can’t learn how on YouTube. You’ll never learn watching Latino men mow your yard.

The new house requires a lot more manual labor. I relish this mandate.

At ten thirty, the sun emerged and burned away the drizzle. I drank a big glass or red wine admiring the fire, then reclined on the grass and…fell asleep! A burn pile, wine-induced morning nap.

I slept for 15 minutes and awakened with smoke blowing my direction. It smelled absolutely wonderful, invigorating, spiritual.

It also smelled like a victory in the existential war I’ve waged the last decade.