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Carol Perkins: Firepit brings back memories of 'creek days'
As we stood with our "fishing poles" in the fire, I thought of my creek bed days of wiener roasts down the road from my great uncle's place. The road was so washed out; we had to walk several feet from his house to the bed of the creek, carrying our supplies. The men stacked deadwood for the fire, and we girls ducked flying embers from the breeze that carried them in every direction. We had no folding chairs but sat on quilts thrown over sand or rocks. - CAROL PERKINS
Next earlier Carol Perkins column: Carol Perkins. Old School Cafe a reality in Metcalfe Co., KY
By Carol Perkins
The firepit that Guy gave me for Christmas four years ago had never had a fire in it. Until this weekend, we had never found (or taken) an occasion to use it. Our daughter and grandson came to visit during his fall break, and they helped us set up my annual display of straw, mums, and pumpkins when it occurred to me that now was the time. "Let's have a wiener roast!" I said.
"Where?" Carla asked remembering the creek days of her youth.
"Right here in the driveway."
While Guy and Joseph looked for the perfect sticks for the hotdogs, Carla and I went to the grocery for supplies. SMORES! We'll make smores. I had never made a Smore or eaten one, so when I saw a bag of marshmallows, I knew it was time.
Back home, Guy and Joseph placed the firepit in front of my newly purchased swing the driveway and lit the fire with store-bought logs he bought at the same time. "Do we need a bucket of water?" Joseph asked. He had learned that in school.
"No son, I can put it out if I need to."
"How?" Joseph didn't see anything handy to put out the fire.
After the flames were high, the "boys" proudly handed each of us a stick. I promise you that my stick was seven feet tall. If I had had a line and a bobber, I could have fished with it. I had to lay it behind me to put the hotdog on the end, which was so thick the hotdog almost poked through it. I couldn't resist. "Guy, were you planning on roasting these from Glasgow?"
As we stood with our "fishing poles" in the fire, I thought of my creek bed days of wiener roasts down the road from my great uncle's place. The road was so washed out; we had to walk several feet from his house to the bed of the creek, carrying our supplies. The men stacked deadwood for the fire, and we girls ducked flying embers from the breeze that carried them in every direction. We had no folding chairs but sat on quilts thrown over sand or rocks.
Early on, we went to the creek as families: my family, along with aunts and uncles and cousins. We kids skipped flat rocks, the boys intentionally got wet and splashed us girls against our wishes. When we cousins became teenagers, we brought our friends to the creek for wiener roasts, singing around the fire and looking at the stars. The creek was a safe place to be back then. No one feared bears, coyotes or wild human beings.
Our "cookout" was fun. I had forgotten the beauty of fire against the dark of night. We finished our Smores, licking the sticky from our fingers, and talked until the night air brought a chill. "We need to do this more often," Guy said. Yes, indeed we do.
(My new book, A Girl Named Connie, is available at Blossoms Florist and Boutique Unique, 507 Happy Valley Road, Glasgow, KY 42141, Phone 270-629-3597; the Edmonton/Metcalfe Chamber of Commerce, 109 E Stockton Street, Edmonton, KY, Phone 270-432-3222; and the Lighthouse Restaurant, 1500 Sulphur Well/Knob Lick Road, Sulphur Well Historic District, KY 42129. Phone 270-629-3597. And Also on Amazon.com) Carol Perkins, PO Box 134, Edmonton, KY 42129. Phone 670-432-5756
This story was posted on 2016-10-12 03:21:48
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