The Writing Studio: Fire Pit
Sometimes, when the goin’ gets slow (and the chainsaw chokes on the ethanol in the gas mixture) the only thing to do is set everything else aside and focus on a task you can start and finish in a simple matter of hours. For me, that meant arranging a fire pit at the far edge of Coon Ridge–behind where the rear end of the Airstream will actually sit. Back in December, Dad felled the red maple widowmaker across the main clearing on the land. Once it came down, we saw just how truly hollowed out the tree had become. It was a relief to know it wouldn’t be able to fall on the trailer–but now what to do with it?
As it turns out, the bucked up rounds begged to become seats and, once I put my mind to it, the logs rolled quite easily despite their size. I arranged them just so, envisioning a handful of friends that might someday gather there. With the lovely “natural benches” in place and shimmed, I began my rock hunt along the ridge. A little innocent rock-poaching later, the job seemed complete. (I was quite near the property line, though no one’s house is to terribly close and certainly not along the same, narrow ridgeline I am.)
Now I just need the company…oh yeah, and the trailer…down here and I’m all set to go! Sure felt good to get something marked off the checklist. Meantime, the bathroom floor still demands our attention.
Oh, I want to visit you at your fire pit!