Fire! Fire!

Over Memorial Day weekend, I went to a bonfire/cookout at the last minute. I had no other plans and was off for the weekend, so what the hell. I'm in!





The shindig was in Marion, way east of here, and a dry county....those bastards! We stopped off in Black Mountain to get some suppplies. We got all kinds of goodies for an awesome cookout. Hamburger, hot dogs, sausage, baked beans, veggies, chips, dip, and LOTS O' BEER!



Needless to say I got a little fuckard. Just a skosh....



We, at one point, had a fire that was 8 feet high and burning strong. It got kinda chilly up here in the mountains, and I remember just sticking close to it. After a relaxing evening of mega drinking and marvelling at the wonder of nature that is fire, I decided to crash. *side note, I can stare at fire for hours, and never get bored, just more ingrossed in the dance of the flames*



My place of sleeping...a hammock.



I hadn't done that in years. There was once a time in my life where I lived on the mountain just to the north of Mt. Mitchell (highest mountain east of the Mississippi River). I lived in the open. I was staying at this place that my boyfriend at the time knew of. The owner of the property used to be a prolific club owner in town, he sold out and went wild. He had built this one room shack on the top of a mountain, complete with rain water recepticles and solar showers. He had somehow hauled up an old 50's style Coca-Cola chest-style cooler, complete with bottle opener. Once a month, he would haul up like 100 lbs of ice, and that was how he kept his food and beer cold. I cooked everything on an open fire, in a very nice fire pit he had built with the granite on the mountain. At the time, I thought it was heaven. I woke up every morning with the most spectacular views. I would open my eyes to the sunrise over a 6684' peak. Nothing but color in the panoramic view of the range. And the air, so fresh. I loved it there.



But this guy, he had some weird things about him...for one, he didn't mind us staying there as long as we did not bother him. Two, he hunted....in the nude. Three, motherfucker was just weird. For the most part, I never even saw him. I stayed there over a month. Well, one night, it rained so hard that it hurt. I tried to shield myself from it, but to no avail. It was literally coming from all directions. I pleaded with Michael to see if he would let us in the shack. He reluctantly asked. The guy was not happy to be woken in the middle of the night by the two vagrants sleeping in his hammock. But he obliged, and let us in. We were allowed to sleep on the top bunk of his bunk bed. Now, there is no ladder. I am 5'2". This did not bode well. I was to try to jump up to a bed that was at least 7 feet high. I went for it, my arms buckled, I fell. CRASH! That really pissed dude off. I gave it another go, and got in. But damn, it wasn't easy for a hobbit like me.



I hadn't slept in a hammock since. I was about 21 at the time, and now I am 32. Big difference in comfort level. It was great while I was in it alone. But when Bret joined me, it got interesting. The whole balance thing. Seemed easier back when.



I woke up when I actually rolled out of the hammock onto the ground. It wasn't a far fall, maybe a foot. Somehow, he didn't wake up when he was almost catapulted out of the damn thing. I got up, stoked the coals of the fire, and watched the sunrise.



I packed up all his music gear, and woke him. Sweet kisses in the morning sun. Regardless of the discomfort of the night's sleep, it was still nice to wake up in the fresh morning air, without even so much as a sleeping bag. It's a primitive and good feeling.



I love it.