We just had the first bonfire of the year. Usually, we light up a fire multiple times a week but with the unbearably hot, dry weather we endured, sitting around a blazing fire wasn't in the least bit appealing (not to mention the risk of burning down the entire county should the wind pick up in the wrong direction and use our crispy lawn as kindling).
The evening was beautiful and cool and by light of the harvest moon, Jack lit our stockpile of fallen branches ablaze while I trimmed the weeds around the fire pit and tossed them in.
Baby Kate's first bonfire
My mom, the girls, Jack and I roasted some humongous marshmallows that had been waiting in the cabinet all summer. Katherine snoozed nearby, the cats mosied over and after our neighbors came back from walking their dogs, they joined us for some s'mores. We broke the news to them of our upcoming move and promised to run all potential buyers past them first. After a sad lull, conversation picked right back up as we watched a few gigantic combines tear down our dusty road and wondered whether or not they were going to knock down our mailboxes. We then laughed over a retelling of an extreme fishing show and other inconsequential subjects before they bid us goodnight and went home.
I think I'm getting nostalgic already. Peaceful evenings like those are so much better than sitting in front of the television or computer. Since moving here, I have felt incredibly blessed by the wonderful neighbors and beautiful open space that we've renovated. I don't know that I could ever go back to living in town. All I hope for is for something similar wherever we end up.