Burn Ban

For more than 25 years I've had to burn my own trash since I live in a rural area that does not have trash removal. When we experience drier than normal conditions, like we have this year, the county places a burn ban on outdoor fires. You know what that means. We have to let our trash pile up, and up, and up. We watch for signs of rain and no wind hoping to be able to rid ourselves of the ever-growing mound in our yard.

Once we have a significant amount of rainfall, they temporarily lift the burn ban. Sometimes it's too windy even if the burn ban has been lifted, so you still can't burn. However, we finally got over four inches of rain this week! I could finally burn trash! Of course, with weeks of accumulated trash, I knew this was going to be more like a bonfire. Time to move all of the vehicles back and make sure the water hose was hooked up and ready to go should a freak gust of wind show up or anything attempt to get out of hand.

I actually find burning trash rather relaxing. Sounds crazy I'm sure, but there is something so mesmerizing about staring at a fire. The flames dance so seductively, the colors change as different types of materials ignite. Just so we all know, an old computer keyboard creates some pretty black smoke. The copper wiring my dad used to burn the insulation off of makes the prettiest blue flames.

As I burn my trash it gives me time to think. I think about all sorts of things. I notice more around me.

I'm keenly aware of the fire ant beds that have popped up underneath the end of a box in the pile of rubbish. I heard an advertisement about killing them just this week that guarantees results. I need to check into it before they take over my yard.

I have noticed two small field mice scurry deeper into the pile as I move some items from the edge of the pile onto the top. Die! You little suckers! I hate mice. They're another problem that comes with not being able to burn my trash as often as I'd like.

I take note of smells as I stay constantly aware of the changing breezes. Different types of trash smell differently. Plastics smell funny as they burn, almost sweet. Styrofoam would probably smell if it didn't melt in a nanosecond. It's fun to watch as its white gooiness oozes. The trash bags themselves melt away so quickly revealing the array of goodies inside. I don't remember how long ago it was that we ate that. That seems embarrassingly long ago.

My peach tree is in full bloom. Pink blossoms everywhere are a good sign. That means we'll have some peach cobbler around the fourth of July, assuming we don't have a freak snowfall in April like we did two years ago. We had snow on Easter morning the year my husband arrived from the UK. We swore he brought it with him because that is almost unheard of in this part of Texas. That reminds me, I need to look up when Easter is this year. Things like that aren't as important once the kids don't care about baskets of fake grass and coloring hard-boiled eggs.

The grass sure appreciated the rain. I need to remember to call Mike, my lawn guy, later this week. By next weekend the weeds will probably be sky high. We saw our first bluebonnets yesterday and our first June bug the other night. That is a sure sign that spring has sprung. Three times in the last few weeks I've seen a flock of cardinals in my front yard. By flock, I mean 15-20 at a time. I'm always heading to work with no time to take a photo. I need to try to do that.