My family and I have been camping at Glenrock Cottages for about 6 years now. It’s a wonderful place to spend your weekends, and holidays if you get them. The neighbours are fantastic, and the owners, Roger and Josee, have to be two of the nicest people you could meet. In many ways, camping there has kept us sane.
That said, one of my favorite activities we partake in while at camp is to sit in front of a campfire. I never knew the joy of this before camping on a regular basis, and now understand why so many of my friends and acquaintances rave about it. At night, when the stars are out, and you can hear the waves of Lake Nipissing lapping at the shore, sitting with your loved one in front of a roaring fire is just about as perfect as it sounds.
My wife Anne once told me ‘everyone looks better in front of a campfire!’. I had to think about that one, as I wasn’t sure if that was an insult or not. I just let it slide.
Last week, while out riding with my lovely wife, I asked her a question which I thought was innocent enough. I asked her ‘Why is it that everyone else in the park has to get rid of their ashes every once in a while, while our fire pit never does? Is it the kind of wood we’re burning?’
Dead silence.
Try to imagine, if you will, opening the door to a walk-in freezer, coming in from a hot kitchen, and going from 25 degree Celsius to minus 20. I have no problem imagining this as I do refrigeration for a living. However, I wasn’t in a walk-in freezer, I was in my truck. It was as if the temperature had plummeted 50 degrees. Ducks stopped flying in mid-air. A turtle that was crossing the road slowly suddenly stood up and sprinted for cover. Trees suddenly shed their leaves in front of our eyes, and went into hibernation.
Such is what happens when you anger a red-head.
It would appear that, alas, we did not have a ‘Magic Fire-Pit’. The wood we were burning was no more special than anyone else’s. It turns out that, all these years, while I was blissfully unaware, sleeping in at the trailer, Anne was removing the ashes and cleaning out the fire pit. I honestly did not know this. I really thought that perhaps some Gnome’s were paying us back for pulling one of them out of a trap years before, or that I just was a really good fire-maker.
I tried to recover from my faux-pas by saying that I knew she had been cleaning out the fire pit all this time. By the look on her face, she wasn’t buying it. I was, however, buying her something nice after the ride!
Bill's Musings 