I recently had occasion once again to lay a fire in in my fire pit. It’s something that happens less often than might be thought for someone who has made much of living in the Texas Hill Country, and it is true that I don’t take *every* opportunity to do it that I might. Then again, it’s been pretty dry ’round these parts, so there’s been a burn ban on for a lot of the year. A little bit of recent rain, however, meant that the yard needed mowing and that the burn ban was lifted, so I took care of the one with my daughter’s help, and I took advantage of the other.

I’m not the first to find a fire a congenial thing, I know, nor yet to find cooking over one a joy. But that I ain’t the first doesn’t make either untrue; I *do* find cooking over flame–this time as often, kindled from wood I cut myself and left to season in this kindly Hill Country air–a pleasant way to spend a good bit of time, and just sitting beside a crackling pile of logs as the fall through char into ash eases quiet contemplation.

I’ve felt the need for it of late.

I’ll not get into great detail about what all’s been on my mind. A lot of it’s got to do with the work of my day-job, and while I don’t make a secret of working as a bookkeeper and tax preparer, I know well the minutiae of the work glazes a lot of eyes, and specifics of my clients are decidedly *not* appropriate topics for discussion here. And I say that knowing full well the ways in which I was loquacious in this webspace and just exactly how prone I am to four-letter words and uncouth talk in my day-to-day life.

So much being said, and even true, I do find a fair bit of peace doing such things as sitting in the shade of an oak tree as wood from another oak burns under my tending. It helps me to slow down for a while, to take my time with something l, as opposed to my normally having to plow through tasks with some speed. Too, it helps me think of myself as actually doing something decent decently; I know I’m not the only one who has some hangups surrounding the divergence between some of what used to be and some of what is, and I don’t believe I’m alone in wanting to take down some of them. Sitting at the fireside gets things off of those hooks for me, at least for a little while.

I know each time I lay in a fire that I can’t stay beside it forever. If nothing else, I need another cup of coffee or another beer, or I have to get rid of one of them I’ve had–and there’s always something else. But I do enjoy it while I can, when I can, and I always look forward to when I can do it again.

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