On the way home from Troy, as I turned onto the highway that ultimately leads to my house, I saw a tower of smoke rising in the sky. Using my powerful masculine spatial and direction calculating skills, I realized that the smoke was coming approximately from my house, and my heart started racing.
According to him, one of our neighbors tried to set fire to his own field to clear out some of the brush. The fire then moved to our side, burning through our pond and on to the little island we have built in it.
My father had told my brother by phone to simply watch the fire and make sure it didn’t get out of hand.
Because as many of you may know, last year around this time, the local rain spirits visited my brother in the wee hours of the night and gifted him with the ability to magically call down storms during potential fiery hazards.
Except none of that actually happened.
So my brother wisely encouraged my father to come see about things himself.
I went outside to see my father but didn’t go into the goat pen (where the fire was burning.)
Later, after waiting my father’s return, I became worried when we heard no mention of him. His car was still near the pond. My brother and I ventured down to the still-smoldering goat farm, went inside, and investigated. He told me he’d already walked the length of the land, and our father was nowhere to be seen.
An old hymn that three people used to sing my church when a certain couple visited came to mind, the title of which is “He Will Set Your Fields on Fire” came to mind when I saw how the fields were actually on fire. “So rejoice and pray on that last great day when he sets your fields on fiiiiiire…”
By the time we were looking for my father, most of the fire had smoldered out.
And where was my father?
I got the sneaking suspicion that he, with his personality, had already gone back to the store. I dialed and indeed got in touch with him; he had taken a different vehicle, and somehow my brother and I alike had overlooked this little detail.
Daddy’s ultimate response to the whole predicament was that it cleared off the land anyway.
Personally, I think I would’ve been slightly sharper and had something of a reprimand for someone having set a fire in such dry weather. If you know anything about using fire, you do not set fire when the grass, leaves, and trees are dry; this can too easily get out of hand and cause major damage.
However, in the end, no one was hurt; all the goats and our goat dog were safe, so I guess the ending is somewhat happy.
Just more everyday tales of what it’s like to live in the South.