Every time I come home from Bonfire, I am subject to extensive and very personal inspections. Everyone with a fur coat must smell my skin and my clothes, before accusing me of being kissed by other dogs and of hugging and kissing my handsome boyfriend cat. They act like they can tell the pH of the water I soaked in and the species of woodsmoke in my hair. And then they judge me. Harshly. Don't worry, B&E, those other dogs never get fed from my plate, nor do they split my apple cores (like you just did before I started writing). Don't worry, Minions. That giant Maine coon cat is just a flirtation. He doesn't have a standing invitation to sleep in my bed like you do (although it would be nice, Rabbit, if you would stop walking on my hair). I just go out to Bonfire when I need a mental re-alignment, and I got exactly that tonight. I'm more relaxed than I've been in weeks.
We had a long talk about what makes the Bonfire gardens so much more calming than my unwieldy Park. It's not just that they have multiple people who tend the property (generally each season there are four different adults who put in time out there) and I have been on my own here for two summers. It's also that the lot is level, and the big trees are confined to the back edge of the property. The lawns are treated with weed & feed (which I rarely do -- I'm not even sure we still own a spreader), and the perimeter edge gets a long-acting mosquito killer two or three times a season. The banana spiders get flipped over the back fence, and with the bug repellent barrier, they stay there. I have been admonished for even dreaming of pesticides, and there is no way you're going to catch me getting close enough to a banana spider to move her. I got up close to them with my camera on multiple occasions, but I know better than to touch a web. I have too many weeds, and too many bugs for one person to contain without chemicals. I wish I could have created a bug- and weed-free sanctuary like Bonfire, but it was too much. I think I need to start trimming back some of the shade garden and the thicket, to restore a more favorable human-to-insect balance for next season.
I think the coup-de-grace of why Bonfire is so much better is the damned fire itself. Yesterday while I was out clearing leaves and sycamore pods, I tried to make a small fire in the pit with a few of the dropped branches that I thought had been down long enough to dry out. I essentially was attempting to make an all-kindling fire, and no matter what I did, I couldn't get any of it to catch. I felt like such a failure at life (that was pretty much the story of the day yesterday anyway, but still). I stood over the Bonfire leader while she got the fire going like it was nothing, and my heart filled with jealousy. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow. I can't be this bad at it, really, can I?
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