Everyone needs a little therapy once in a while. And when said therapy can be accomplished by helping the earth warm up a bit, one can feel even better about the tasks one completes in the course of the day.
Of course, some might worry about the polar bears, or the ice caps; but personally, I can’t think of a more enjoyable and fulfilling way to blow giant holes in the ozone layer than by incinerating a pile of garbage, branches, trees, assorted stacks of mold infested newspapers, and 101 cardboard boxes of varying sizes.
In short, I am speaking of that traditional method by which committed pyromaniacs release their pent-up desire for flames in the form of that most useful of trash elimination methods; the burn pile.
It was my genetic lot in life to have descended from a long line of enthusiastic pyromaniacs on both sides of the family, so I hardly had a chance but to find therapy and relaxation in the successful execution of the burn pile.
As you may know, I have been in the process of cleaning my dear grandparents’ barn, and along with that task I amassed a Very Large Pile of Cardboard Boxes in Various Stages of Decay. After sorting through each box, and consolidating or emptying them, they were tossed in a growing pile in the corner of the barn, waiting for a day without rain, as were several bags of garbage and other stuff.
That glorious day arrived today with the lack of rain for the better part of the day, and I determined within myself to burn the boxes and newspapers, at least; and if I were lucky, the flames from that would be enough to dry out the current pile of wet branches and tree trimmings so that they might do their part in melting the polar ice caps as well.
First, I had to load up all the boxes and garbage and other assorted junk on my trailer. There was so much I also used the back of my obliging friend Benjamin to load the rest of it on.
Things went smoothly, for the most part. Except when one cardboard box decided to drop itself through and relieve itself of the load of ancient milk cartons just before I was going to get it on the trailer. (don’t ask me why there were well over 200 empty milk cartons in the barn. Don’t ask me, either, how old they were.)
Loaded high we (Benjamin, me, and the trailer; who, by the way, has yet to be named) drove out from the barn and backed down to the burn pile area.
It thrills the soul of all good pyromaniacs to have a rip roaring fire in a very few minutes with the least possible application of effort on the part of the pyromaniacee, and happily things were in flames very shortly. It is truly amazing what one match and a bit of newspaper can accomplish. Of course, a bit of gasoline doesn’t hurt either. O_O
My dear grandmother came out to watch the action and to help throw boxes and other junk into the fire, which rapidly grew and began to eat into the main burn pile with an eagerness that could only be explained by a strong desire to warm the globe to the point that pineapples will thrive in the Yukon.
I don’t mind saying that at times this job has been somewhat arduous; the glory of the burn pile today made it all worthwhile, and I would gladly clean out another barnful of junk if I could so be rewarded again by a burn such as this.
Aside from the approximately 224 milk cartons and who knows how many ancient and fossilized newspapers, there were bags of packing peanuts that sizzled when they burned.
There were around 150-200 cardboard boxes that I sent to their death, and yes, I am completely serious. Did you take a good look at that trailer load of boxes?!? I cannot say exactly how many spiders, stinkbugs, and other miniscule creatures met their Maker today (if insects meet their Maker), but I am sure it was a good amount.
I burned five or six bags of chopped up rubber retreads, which ensued in copious quantities of wonderful black smoke billowing high enough that you could probably see it if you happened to be looking my way today. Polluting the atmosphere is such a fulfilling spectacle. 🙂
There were six or seven bags of garbage that I was kind of thinking I might take to the dump, but, the dump is expensive. And fire is cheap. And it consolidates and eliminates most anything you could think of if said fire is hot enough. So, I threw the bags of garbage on.
I was thoroughly delighted, a little while later, to see fireworks coming out of the burn pile. Quite startling, actually; I’d forgotten there were some old fireworks in one of those bags. 🙂
Not so very long after, there were a couple of Very Large Explosions. You could call them Big Bangs. They were truly and extremely deeply satisfying down to the very core of my being, although I don’t know what caused them. Probably a couple of empty spray cans or something.
Overcome by enthusiasm and the success and the heat of the burn pile, I started throwing bags of garbage on, from anywhere I could get them. I threw on the rest of the chopped up rubber retreads. The fire was getting so hot I was able to throw on piles of damp dead branches lying around and not even halt the advance of the flames and the heat. Goodbye polar ice caps.
I got out the chainsaw and cut down some nearby brush and threw that into the fire and the leaves flared up and popped nicely, throwing sparks 173 feet into the air.
I couldn’t resist applying some used motor oil on the fire, although it didn’t really need it. Glory hallelujah!! That stuff will cure whatever ails any sickly burn pile! 🙂 But by now it was getting dark, so I refrained myself from adding to the pile, and as it was nearing supper, and the evening and the rain were both beginning to descend, I let discretion overcome the better part of pyromaniacalism and left the fire to its own devices, as my stomach was beginning to talk with me in no uncertain terms.
And after supper I went out and checked on the fire and it was beginning to die down. But ah, the beautiful memories of that glorious fire! The flames and the heat and the sparks and the crackling and sizzling and the whoosh every time a box landed on the fire…..