We had a fire every night we camped. It wasn't exactly cold every night, unlike most of the other times I've been camping there, but it was chilly enough. And we all wanted a fire. It was part of the tradition. Part of what makes camping camping.

I loved the fire. I loved the way it looks, the way it smells, the way it feels. I loved how I could smell it in my hair for about three or four washings afterward. I loved unpacking our laundry and smelling the fire again. I've heard smell is the greatest memory trigger, and that smell takes me right back to vacation and many years of happy times.

Last year, it was so dry in the mountains that not only were campfires disallowed, but even camp stoves. As could be told by the multiple forest fires last year, any type of outdoor fire was a hazard. I'm so glad there was more snow there the past winter and more rain in the spring. I doubt I would have wanted to go had we not been able to have our fire. And we simply couldn't have managed without a camp stove. RV camping would have been the only option, and we don't have one of those.

Even if we did have an RV, and one day, I think we will, I would still want a campfire. It seems other RV owners agree with me, because at night, every campsite lights up. It's a ritual when campers leave their site to scavenge whatever firewood was left behind. My dad gathered, sawed, and chopped lots of premium firewood (nice, dry, aged pine), so on the last night we were there, we had a gigantic fire that lasted long after John and I went to bed. Mom and Dad stayed up to tend the fire and burn the last of his hard-earned wood. As nice as it would have been to leave it for the neighbors, he wanted to reap the fruits of his labor. There were a few pieces left, or he may have stayed up until 3 AM burning it all. There was nothing but a layer of grey ash when we got up that morning.

Besides just sitting by the fire and watching it, there was the fun of burning anything flammable in it. Paper cups, plates, and napkins always went in after you finished eating. So did some macaroni and cheese one night and spaghetti another. Those were slow to burn, but interesting to watch. Marshmallows are the best food to burn. That's where the makers of The Blob had to have gotten their inspiration. It's a wonder how huge a marshmallow can get and well worth the lost snack.

Campfires released my curiosity as a child, as I think it did for my own kids. When else are kids allowed to throw stuff in a fire and watch it burn, move the logs around to keep them burning, and see who can build the best-starting fire. I still believe I am the champion fire-builder, something it was clear my son did not inherit from me, though he enjoyed trying as much as I did.

My first apartment had a fireplace, and while very nice, it wasn't the same. I would still like a fireplace, but it won't take the place of gathering around a campfire under a gazillion bright starts on a chilly night.

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One Year Ago Today:
Nothing