six degrees.

barbarian gratitude, ya'll.
an offering, of sorts,
to woodsly goodness at large. 
that was the plan,
unfortunately,
a duraflame log and some whippin' winds threatened to burn the mutha-ucka down.
happily,
it was so cold everywhere BUT the firepit,
the frosty film on everthing extinguished any and all errant embers,
before disaster could ignite....
those firestarter logs are AWESOME.
there's no coals at all, only hot fire!
and they never stop burning.
i was so ready to head inside, maybe snack up some pretzels,
and warm it up,
but the fire was all like:
nah, yo, i'm not done yet....
for hours, my ninjas...
and ya'll already know how cold the side of you not facing the fire gets, right?
never mind assless chaps,
i'd much prefer a less chapped ass.....
six degrees!
no seperation necessary-
looks like we're headed for a thermal undies thanksgivin'.....

a pure pine pyre, ya'll,
with some clementine boxes,
and ferns as added incendiary incentives....

are you out of your gourd?
well, i'm not, my ninjas.
i've got plenty more winter squash to sacrifice where that one came from.
i'm sayin'.
it was frozen solid when the blazin' got poppin',
but after awhile, the hottness overwhelmed it's coldness.....

yeah.
i know.
that's kinda fresh.

c'mon.
that's some mt. vesuvius-type pompeii business right there.
little things, ya'll.
little things, in a row, one after another, for a while....
that's how i'm buildin' a better rural reality.
november is definitely the time to do it, too.
candles, oil lamps, thick slices of leafy outdoorsiness,
each thing is a brick in a pretty fantastic Folk Life fortress.
i'm grateful for the time i have been given.
recognize, yo.


that's an ak-47 riflestock spring,
and a pretty gnarly lookin' glowin' hunk of hewn hemlock.
the firepit is thick with ash and charred wreckage from years of fiery fury.
i'm lookin' forward to a mini-archaeological dig,
pickin' out the paticles of the past that missed the pyrrhic punishment i purposed.

my 12th annual vegan thanksgivin' has got to get it goin' on,
it's only just one week away,
and then the eleven days of barbarian battle-beast feasts begin.
i need some lobster-bibs, i think....
modified to mention:
my hands have teeth.....
never quiet, never soft...