After our fire cooking evening last weekend, we happily began planning for another to take place last night, gathering around not to cook this time, but to roast (burn) marshmallows, sip on some steamy hot chocolate and simply curl up by the warmth of the fire heat, visiting, enjoying one another’s company and chatting about how our week went. We all eagerly awaited for the day to arrive, hoping the weather would not be inclimate as forecasted for the weekend. We so desired to have one more (or many more) events around our newly constructed fire pit, mostly just for the luxury of an evening’s relaxation and some family togetherness.
Blow, blow, blow them charcoal marshmallows out!
The fire was stoked after our dinner, with the sun falling & bidding us farewell before all were able to gather round and wave it goodbye. The older ones paraded their pups down the road for their evening stroll, while the rest of us gathered items of necessity for the campfire enjoyment. One son figured the fire would once again be too hot for him to cook his dessert near it, so he donned his sunglasses and dragged around, in hand, his beloved ukulele to entertain us during a quiet lull. He actually strummed well, as we giggled over those dark glasses at night (heh, isn't there a song by that name?), and noted his rock star look accompanying those shades.
Rock star performing as the evening
Sounds in the night time darkness were unusual to a few children, with hubby explaining the squeak noises were actually bats looming overhead. When a further discussion ensued of other possible night critters wondering out in the back fields, their inquiries were answered with our guesses being; possible deer, raccoons, porcupines (huge ones here the vet told us), other dogs, those types. In a quick motion, our youngest daughter decided her daddy’s lap was the safest place to be, huddled deep within her blanket for extra protection as she darted over in a brisk stride to get by his side and hop up.
Safe on daddy's knee with the full moon
lighting up the night sky for all to see.
Eventually the pups (in their pen) began to feel left out, moaning and crying to be nearer to us, so the older two fetched them and coached them into total obedience around the fire, lest they get into a dangerous situation.
The pups came to visit by the fire.
They weren’t sure of the fire itself at first though they sensed and enjoyed its warmth once sitting, and the noises of the night with the strange odors of those burnt marshmallows that had fallen off the skewers and were now smoking on the fire flames caught their attention as well, but eventually they lay down yawning, enjoying the comfort of the belly stroking, and the loving they were welcoming with great appreciation from the children. We told our youngest, these pups were her protection along with all of us, allowing her to rest at ease for a short time.
I don't like what we're talking about...
When the fire began to die down leaving its bright red embers merely glowing slightly, the warmth of it's peak burning gone, it left us to chiver slightly, and the chill in the air simultaneously began to whip right through both our protective blankets and our jackets. My feet were so "cold to the bone" (!) upon entering the house, not wanting to warm up comfortably for the rest of the evening, thus required a very long, hot soak to get the deep chill to dissipate and disappear before bedtime. Brrrrrrrrr…. My oh my, how cool the night air was this night! So cold in fact we could see our breath. Winter was near, we could feel it.
Hot chocolate made in a pan on the stove with
steamy milk makes one sleep well at night.
Waking up this morning, to another lovely promising day of sunshine, peering out the back windows browsing the bird feeder activity, we discovered we had not dreamt up that sudden night chill, rather we were now well aware of the real reason for the deep chill after our fire had ended. Jack Frost had come in the night to visit us as we were in our deepest slumber, white washing and painting the green grass, the autumn colored leafy trees, both the barn and house rooftop too, with a lovely whitewash, offering glittering sparkles, shining brightly in the crispy morning air, blasting sunlight reflective shimmering prisms around the yard. The thermometer read 2 degrees, though our trampoline read "ice", or at the very least – thick frost. Thank you Jack!
Thick frost came in the night,
now beginning to warm up.
The trampoline below though still
shows evidence of Jack Frost's visit.