I Said, Jump Into My Fire. Walk Right Into the Flame.

Last night we helped our farmer friend with a prairie burn. The thing above is what we used to start the fire.

The winds were nice and still last night. The year before, the winds were a lot higher and it was scarier to worry about the fire jumping its boundaries.

We also had the "help" of Burne's dog, Lily. She ran and ran and ran some more, until they finally sent her home, so they wouldn't have to worry about her running into the fire. Silly girl.

They say all fire fighters are secretly pyro's, and it might be true with me. I used to fight wild land fires in the 80's, and though I would never want to burn anything that would hurt anyone or anything, I do love to watch shit burn. It's so dangerous and so beautiful, all at the same time.

My job was to wear the Ghostbusters backpack that held water and squirt the fire that jumped to the wrong spot, or that didn't entirely burn out when it should have. Like I said above, it was a pretty easy job this year, with the lighter winds.

It looks so apocalyptic, doesn't it?

We got everything all burned and got home by a little after 9. Now, we have to wash all of our clothes so our house doesn't smell like an eternal campfire.