My first attempt at a Norman Rockwell-esque snowy winter evening didn’t go as well as planned. First, there was little kindling and only big honking logs. I managed but I knew that if I was going to try again, I needed some seriously mid-range size logs. I was thinking about getting one of those fake logs hoping it would burn long enough to get the big log burning, but wasn't sure if that would work.
Then, on a trip to a nearby town, I caught a glimpse of what looked like bundled wood outside of a live-bait shop. I went around the block to double check…. SCORE! It was just what I was looking for! I bought two bags. (Then got three or four more later!)
The scene was definitely Norman Rockwell. Toasty fire… flames dancing behind the glass, feet propped on the mantel, cozy chair, a great book and a sweet yellow lab sleeping next to the chair. (Add long contented sigh here)
The dog came unglued alternately trying to both get away from the source of the sound and barking like he was rabid because he didn’t know what it was.
On the other hand, I wasn’t a whole lot better. I jumped so hard that the book went flying (sadly landing behind the dog which did not help the situation) my heart was racing as it lodged firmly in my throat…
Cripes.
Even though the entire incident probably took place within the span of maybe four seconds, I looked at him, he looked at me… we were shaky, freaked out and gasping for breath.
We decided we’d watch TV. With the sound on loud!
No comments:
Post a Comment