Revised July 3, 2019.
The trouble with fire is that it never stands still long enough to be seen. It’s like water falling, or snowflakes drifting down, or dry leaves blown by a gale. But the camera loves to make them stand still.
These pictures were extracted from photos of a tiny fire I built at Kieferhaven (here at Balsamea) on November 4, 2018. It was just a little pile of sticks and scraps of birch bark, something to enjoy for a little while. That little fire has lasted a long, long while.
Click pix for larger views.
What? You saw something else in them? What?
It can be fun playing with fire. As The Balsamean says, “There is no solitude in the forest. When in doubt, have a campfire.” I do.
An artist’s eyes never rest! –Lisa Brunetti
Below are a couple of my earlier posts about campfires, back in the ancient times of 2013. I say ancient as in so far divorced from the present as to seem ancient.
This present I refer to is the latest explosion of American insanity manifest most monstrously in 2016 and since, continually worsening, almost daily, endangering the world, even the existence of the planet.
Perhaps a new beginning, or part of one, or a kind of healing help, could come through the tribes sitting together at campfires. Trump would not sit for it. He would curse it for not glorifying himself. But many of his supporters know the peaceful fellowship of the campfire, the subtle glory of its shared soulfulness. In it we can “pass the pipe,” so to speak, and consider one another in a better light, an equal light.
Thrice Warming Wood, March 15, 2013
To Build a Fire, September 20, 2013
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