Dear Kid,
The other day it rained.
Not a monsoon, but enough to break out my beloved rain boots and scurry from car to building under an umbrella. A big umbrella, not the tiny collapsible kind.
By early evening the storm had passed, leaving everything sparkly fresh. And wet.
Pi had one of her friends over to visit and Dad suggested s’mores. He’s been particularly s’more-fixated this year. The girls thought it was a fine idea. They collected the ingredients and Dad, thePuppy, and I went outside to build a fire.
Did I mention “wet”?
We searched high and low to find semi-dry fire building material (strong emphasis on “semi”), and we had no trouble creating fire—that is, lighting the matches. Many matches.
The Puppy amused himself by digging a bed in the mulch.
After a while, Dad decided to (sacrilege!) add newspaper as a fire starter. We had no difficulty in lighting the newspaper. We even managed to get some of the pine needles to smoke and smolder a bit.
After another while, the girls, the Puppy, and I went inside where we made s’mores the traditional way—by cooking the marshmallows over the stovetop. (Advantages: actual heat and fewer mosquitoes.) Dad refused to give up and continued to attempt to create fire.
Many, many matches gave their lives in the attempt. No actual wood was harmed.
We invited Pi’s friend to come back another time when the probability of lighting a fire might be higher.
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