Happy Holidays everyone!
I hope all is well for each of you this season.
Here's a photo of one of my favorite places. This is Wisconsin. I spent many summers clapping hands over fireflies, frogs and toads.
There used to be a huge cast iron pot in front of this little red cabin. We used it for bonfires for as far back as I can remember. It was BIG and heavy. Also, awkwardly round -- way to big for someone my size to wrap their arms around -- which raises the question: How would you move it? It was moved though. The pot came from somewhere in the family. Was it used for the wash? Maybe. I like to imagine someone trying to move it from one spot to the other then dropping it in the middle of the yard, and declaring they were not carrying that ridiculous thing one step further. Then, of course, people walked around it, day after day. (No one would willingly want to relocate it, so ignoring it was a better idea.) And then, one day someone set a fire in it and our family fire tradition was born. (I'm sure I'm making all of this up, by the way.)
Sidenote: There's always one person who can't ignore things, and if you are such a person (as I am) the best bet is to come up with another, better use for the object being ignored. If you can't do that, you're the one who has to get rid of the dang thing just to not look at it anymore.
Anyway, a few years ago, my family split that pot in two with a winter bonfire in subzero temperatures. It lasted the bonfire, but the next morning it was in chunks. I guess we're lucky it didn't explode during s'mores.
So that's a little winter bonfire story for you. I'd still love to have another winter bonfire, but perhaps without the exploding pot.