Most families have traditions, whether they realize it or not. Ours seems to have developed the ignoble tradition of setting the lawn on fire.
It was a normal day. OK, maybe not normal because there was no wind. Youngest son and I came back from some errands and smelled smoke immediately upon driving in the yard.
It was easy to spot the large black, burned area on the front lawn. It was criss-crossed with a series of garden hoses — the result of trying to find one that would unroll and was not blocked with ice in the sub-freezing weather.
In the middle of a round, unburned area stood our loyal puppy tethered by a 30 foot line to her dog house. Since the fire went around her area, the hubby and boys focused on other priorities rather than letting her loose. Of course, she was thrilled to be in the middle of the action, even if only for a while.
(Do not feel bad for the dog, she earned her confinement by killing chickens, but that is another story.)
We are fast approaching garden season. This usually involves me burning excess residues in some parts of the garden. There is a really good chance we will have another “burned lawn” post in the near future.
I will be sure to get some good pictures.