Sparking Fires
In the fall of 1978 I awoke in the pre-dawn hours gently bitten by an early morning chill that was cold enough to chill but hadn't crossed over into freezing. My backyard sleeping bag was great at home, but here in the mountains the bundle proved too thin and worn. It was early and I heard no sounds but the deep breathing and snores of other campers. For several minutes I tried drift back to sleep hoping for the warmth of the sun to heat my goose-bumped, but not yet shivering body.
Sleep eluded my every attempt when I remembered the heat by the fire the evening before. I would happily exchange an hour of sleep for the relief from a fire's warmth. I found my shoes and a long-sleeved shirt and exited the tent. I felt disoriented as I saw no fire to greet me. Brushing the fog from my mind I visualized where the fire ring sat within the campground and slowly made my way toward it using the diffused half-moon light. As my eyes adjusted, shadows became shapes and I carefully made my way through the night.
When I reached the fire site my heart sank. Even in the dark I saw that only black and gray ash lay within the circle of rocks. Having been up and moving I had forgotten the cold but suddenly the chill encompassed me more fiercely than before. I had no matches nor kindling at the ready and I felt resigned to hours of uncomfortable chill until an adult could rescue me. I felt silly and selfish to awake them from their still deep sleep.
I did not plan it. I didn't realize I knew it. In that moment, some instinctual drive caused me to reach out my hand and hold it just above the ashes. Though subtle, my flesh felt a tender warmth. Immediately, I recalled that fire requires fuel and air. I began to blow on the ashes. The first three or four blows brought nothing but flying ash. I slowed and focused my breath on the bottom of blackened and cracked log. Then it happened, a faint orange flash. I looked back and it was gone but I knew I had seen it. I blew again and this time it remained between breaths.
That constant orange light remained but no flame appeared. I could feel the heat on my face as I blew, but I needed something more. Looking around I found some twigs and carefully placed them near the heated ember. Now the smoke hindered my ability to keep my face near the heat. But I knew my goal was near. My breath parted the cloud and the ember began to glow almost red. Suddenly one twig lit and then another. I quickly grabbed additional twigs and the light from the fire revealed even better fuel. I achieved my goal and silently communed as a solitary soul, one with the nature around me.
Sleep eluded my every attempt when I remembered the heat by the fire the evening before. I would happily exchange an hour of sleep for the relief from a fire's warmth. I found my shoes and a long-sleeved shirt and exited the tent. I felt disoriented as I saw no fire to greet me. Brushing the fog from my mind I visualized where the fire ring sat within the campground and slowly made my way toward it using the diffused half-moon light. As my eyes adjusted, shadows became shapes and I carefully made my way through the night.
When I reached the fire site my heart sank. Even in the dark I saw that only black and gray ash lay within the circle of rocks. Having been up and moving I had forgotten the cold but suddenly the chill encompassed me more fiercely than before. I had no matches nor kindling at the ready and I felt resigned to hours of uncomfortable chill until an adult could rescue me. I felt silly and selfish to awake them from their still deep sleep.
I did not plan it. I didn't realize I knew it. In that moment, some instinctual drive caused me to reach out my hand and hold it just above the ashes. Though subtle, my flesh felt a tender warmth. Immediately, I recalled that fire requires fuel and air. I began to blow on the ashes. The first three or four blows brought nothing but flying ash. I slowed and focused my breath on the bottom of blackened and cracked log. Then it happened, a faint orange flash. I looked back and it was gone but I knew I had seen it. I blew again and this time it remained between breaths.
That constant orange light remained but no flame appeared. I could feel the heat on my face as I blew, but I needed something more. Looking around I found some twigs and carefully placed them near the heated ember. Now the smoke hindered my ability to keep my face near the heat. But I knew my goal was near. My breath parted the cloud and the ember began to glow almost red. Suddenly one twig lit and then another. I quickly grabbed additional twigs and the light from the fire revealed even better fuel. I achieved my goal and silently communed as a solitary soul, one with the nature around me.
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