Monday, May 18, 2015

When the Pasture Burned

There is a pasture behind our house. It is not ours. One night last week Nate and I were hanging out after the kids were in bed. When out of the darkness some guy we never saw before was knocking on our door. Nate says, "Who is it?" and I reply, "Some old guy." I am so kind. 

He wonders if we know that our pasture is on fire which we did not. I guess it looks like it is our pasture. Or maybe he sees us throwing our watermelon rinds into it? So Nate and he are out inspecting the blaze, I followed at a distance to make sure he was not a murderer of some sort. There really was a fire and it was so windy. The garden hose was not going to cut it. 
Nate says the firemen went leaping over the fence. We felt kind of bad for them that it was put out so quickly. The children were upset the next morning that we did not get them up, the last thing I need is them having nightmares from waking up to flashing lights. I was glad they slept through it. 
I was also glad that the fire department came and I did not have to haul buckets of water and feel like Ma Ingalls because just a few short weeks before, that did happen. 
I guess I could title this post, "We Need Rain." 

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