poetry and prose about place

Posts Tagged ‘campfire


with 4 comments

I love a campfire.  If you visit our property, you would know this because there is a fire pit for every occasion.



December 26, 2011, ‘watching the fire’, Jane Tims


We have a stone fireplace, made from big granite cobbles, for serious fires.  We have a chiminea on the back deck, perfect for a quick fire in spring or summer.  And now I have a metal fire pit on the front lawn.


first fire in my metal fire pit - leaves and wood  wet after yesterday's rain

first fire in my metal fire pit – leaves and wood wet after yesterday’s rain


Fire is insubstantial yet so powerful.  It can be dangerous but soothing.  When I sit in front of a fire, watching the flames, I feel I am sharing community with every person who has ever tended a campfire.



a summer campfire during a visit with family and friends


Copyright 2014  Jane Tims


Written by jane tims

October 27, 2014 at 7:30 am

toasting marshmallows and singing around the fire

with 6 comments

I hope you had a lovely Christmas Day.

For me, Christmas is not just a single day, but a celebration lasting until Epiphany (January 6).  So, I keep all my decorations up until then (including the tree if it doesn’t get too dry).

One of my favorite decorations is my set of Buyers Choice carolers.  These two are enjoying Boxing Day, toasting marshmallows and singing by the fire.

singing by the campfire


Copyright Jane Tims 2012

Written by jane tims

December 26, 2012 at 7:20 am

keeping watch for dragons #8 – campfire dragon

with 6 comments

Late summer is the time for campfires.  We have to be careful, of course, to make sure there is no risk of forest fire and campfires are permitted.  But on an evening when the fire index hotline says OK, and we have a small stack of wood beside the fire pit and a bench for sitting, there is no better way to pass an evening.

Campfires are great places for telling stories.  They are also good places to dream and remember.   A campfire means getting smoke in your eyes, so the images can be a little blurry.  You can watch the sparks lift from the fire and ascend into the dark night.  The question is, are they also watching you … ?



campfire dragons 


dragons prowl

in balsam

back crawl in amber

blisters of pitch


dragons lurk

under mantles of smoke

blacken the stones

spurt throatfuls of fire


dragons leap

to the Drago sky

watch us grow small

with sparking eyes


close their lids

and sleep in flight



©  Jane Tims 1998

Written by jane tims

August 24, 2012 at 7:15 am


with 4 comments

Our firepit has a roaming spirit.  It began its days in front of the house and we had many wonderful evening fires.  Then, as the years passed, the maple tree overhead grew until it was dangerous to have a fire under such a thick canopy.

To improve the safety of the firepit, I moved it, stone by stone to the back of the house, reassembling it exactly as it was.  We had a few fires and then, one day, our lives became busy.  We kept taking wood for the next fire and the next fire never happened.  Gradually the pile became so large, you could not see the firepit!

Last month, my husband put our tractor to use to move the firepit one more time.  I clawed my way into the pile of scrap wood and uncovered the stones.  Then we pushed them into the bucket of the tractor and away they went, to their new home across the yard.

Now they are in the driveway, waiting for their new home (see the plan in ‘plans for a rocky road’  November 13, 2011 under the category   ‘the rock project’).

The next step will be to fell four spruce trees in the area of the firepit, to make sure we can have our fires safely.  This next step may have to wait until spring since the stones are now in the frozen throes of winter!






 rattle of leaves

bark, twigs

and paper

as the air warms

finds its chimney

surges red life

into the tunnel of maple

the moment when breath

turned cloudy on cold air

becomes smoke

and lungs draw ash and fire

the summer night

when lightning strikes

when thunder

bold in its dreaming

turns beneath the earth

ions leap

and pine sap explodes

in a fistful of sparks

the warming by smiles

and clasping of hands

striking of sparks in the tinder

the flame leaps

from candle to candle

the sharp ache

at the corner of an eye

where cinders and smoke

have gathered

lungs drawing fire and ash

an effort to breathe

and fingers

warm with tremble


© Jane Tims   1995

Written by jane tims

December 28, 2011 at 8:32 am

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