The romance of the flame.

I've been around a lot of bonfires in my life.

A bonfire in the summer is a silly thing to attempt; invariably, there's some kind of fire danger that puts all the local gendarmery on alert for smoke and spark, and it's usually too damned hot to sit near a fire.

There are exceptions to that rule; there were several summer bonfires on the Pacific beaches that turned out all right; the temperature drops quite nicely when the sun goes down, and the Pacific breeze is cooler than the one on the Gulf.

But I have found the the Fall is the best time for a bonfire.  The temperatures are cool; there is usually the lovely scent produced by the sweet rotting of the leaves, and there is something intoxicating about the smell of burning wood in October.

And the stars are oh, so much brighter.

I have my favorite places, of course; and favorite memories.....

I can recall being invited out to a small farm south of Lexington KY in the Fall of '97.  I couldn't find it again if you paid me.  But the wood was dry, and there were enough leaves on the trees to rattle and hum as the Fall breezes blew through....and the stars shone down on the cool, crisp evening as the sound of drums and pennywhistle floated up from the circle surrounding the fire. 

In truth, the evening began as a force of nature dragged me along like the current of the rushing river; and by the end of the evening, as I fell asleep near the indoor fireplace in a remarkable cabin, I had  given in completely.  I entered as Patty Hearst and left as Tanya.

I still hear the echoes of the drums every year as the first Fall rain falls.

But of course, my favorite place was this pit of sand up the road from the Cabin of Legend.

The last time I lit a fire in that area was sometime in the mid-80's.  A walk had turned into a conversation, and the conversation continued as the sun went down and the thousand thousand stars lit up the moonless night sky.  I lit a fire, and we sat and talked and danced....

And I often wonder what happened to that girl.  I hope she is well and happy; and I hope that she knows that years have passed, but she is there still.  Every time I go there.  Every Time.

There have been other fires; fires to cleanse, for example, as I systematically burned the letters from one of the many "she-who-shall-not-be-named;" fires to cook upon, and there is no greater treat than a fire-baked s'more; and, of course, the eerie look of the fires in the orange groves, tended through the night to keep the crops from freezing.......

The first great harnessing of elemental power.

I am drawn like the moth.