A full month and a week after the hurricane, I had a Saturday off where I could take care of some things that sorely needed some action. We don't live in town so we don't have curbside pickup of trees and debris. Or so we thought. Tricia got word that they would be picking up limbs and storm debris for rural citizens. We burned a whole bunch of limbs and sticks in the pasture, but we still had a bunch left. Tricia and the boys had stacked a huge pile by the road in anticipation of the truck to come pick it up. We waited and waited and waited, but it the truck never came.
Finally, we gave up hope. I figured I would do it myself. I backed up our truck to the pile and slowly gathered the debris into the bed. I took the photo below after I had already picked up about half of the pile. It took a long time. I started around 9:30 and finished at 3:30.
Despite not having roadside pickup of debris, I am still grateful to live in the country. So many neighbors waved while passing by. Others stopped to talk. Just friendly country folk. One neighbor rolled down her window to let me know she had just stopped by and put a bag of oranges and two bags of grapes "just to bless us." I wouldn't trade simple, country living for anything.
It was such a beautiful day, I didn't mind working. Not one bit. I wish I had counted the number of truckloads I took to the back for burning. Slowly, I began to put a dent in the pile.
Before too long, I was done! The grass under the pile was dead from being covered by branches and leaves for a month, but it will grow back.
After the second load to the back, I set the pile on fire. Despite being a little green, the fire roared, quickly consuming the leaves and branches. Each time I would bring another truckload of sticks and limbs, I would dump it onto the fire and the flames would reach back up to the sky.
The nosy animals came to check out the happenings. Each time I would open the gate to back the pickup truck in and unload yet another load onto the fire, the cows and goats would gather at the gate. I had to be real careful to quickly close the gate or they would get out. Sometimes the cows would sit right in the path of the truck, and I would have to honk the horn to get them to move. Pay particular attention to the head of the bull in the bottom right-hand side of the photo below. He plays another leading role in the story that follows.
On Saturday afternoon, the job was done. I was tired, but happy. It is rewarding to finish a job of an honest day's work and see the fruits of your labors. The fire burned all Saturday night. By Sunday afternoon, all that remained of the pile was a heap of smoldering coals.
Sunday night at 10PM I was turning off the lights to go to bed. Something didn't seem right. I looked out of the french doors and saw a huge fire in the pasture. It looked like the barn might be on fire! I yelled to Benjamin to meet me outside. We both ran out in time to see flames leaping 15 feet into the air. When I determined that it was NOT the barn afire, I thought it may be a ruptured gas pipeline. It was burning with such vigor.
As we ran closer, we were able to identify that it was the Rubbermaid trough burning. And boy, did it burn! There was nothing we could do but stand and watch it as the flames lit up the surrounding area and thick black smoke filled the air. We determined what happened. Bulls, as they are apt to do, like to push and rub on things with their heads. The empty trough is used as a feeding trough. The other two catch rainwater off the roof for drinking. The bulls had pushed the empty trough into the smoldering coals and it caught on fire.
Now we'll have to find another bucket to use as a feeding trough come feeding time! Good news: the burn pile was gone. Bad news: So is our feeding trough. Oh well, it could always be worse.
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