One of the hazards of living on a farm with no winter rain is that the veld becomes very dry and there's a danger of fires. We cut the grass around the buildings and make fire breaks. We also usually water the compost bins and the processing area around them. The compost bins can generate a lot of heat. With one thing and another we haven't remembered to do the watering lately and to my horror I heard Henning shouting shortly after breakfast and looked outside to see a column of smoke.
Well, if you are thinking barbecue type fire, just think again. We ran with hoses, beat
the flames with wet blankets, eventually started running with buckets of water from the dam. The flames would hiss and die for a few moments, then spring up again. The fire started spreading into the veld, but fortunately there was no wind and we managed to head it off after a while.
In the movies you always see the heroine walking away from the burning ruin with a stripe of soot on her forehead and a perky pony tail. Let me tell you that reality is an over all sooty monster. By the time we beat the fire I had red eyes and cracked lips, my clothes were singed and my shoes were ruined from running on hot ashes and getting doused with water. Not to mention snot running down my chin and tossing my cookies quite early on from all the exertion. I am not going to become a fire fighter when I grow up.
All's well that ends well. The damage can be repaired, the plants will grow again, and the dogs really enjoyed hunting for and gobbling up cooked compost grubs once the ashes cooled down.
What an exciting week it's been so far. On Monday accosted by a pervert in the grocery shop, on Tuesday a fire...
On Wednesday my special friend arrives. I am hours behind with preparations, and so tired now that I can hardly drag myself along. Nothing will dampen my pleasure in anticipation of seeing her though.
