Monday, February 20, 2006
The Roundtop boys are enlarging one of the paintball fields, or perhaps the last wind storm brought down some trees, but at any rate, they’d lit a bonfire of piled logs and stumps at the end of the pond. By the time Baby Dog and I arrived, after sunset but with the sky still light, the fire was all coals and ashes, more like a friendly campfire than a bonfire. I warmed my hands by the fire, and Baby Dog sniffed around warily—it was the first fire she’d ever seen, I think.
There’s something about the heat from a comfortable fire—nothing feels as warming or as pleasant. We stood around for a while, Baby Dog was getting used to the fire, I was enjoying it. I was also enjoying the unexpected pleasure of finding a friendly fire at the end of our evening woods walk. I warmed my hands and my face, remembering other fires and other winter evenings. We sat there for 10-15 minutes, until the night deepened, and I started to feel its chill on my back. It was only then that I reluctantly turned around and headed back to the cabin.