There is fire.  And this time it was across the road from our house.

I didn’t really know what to expect when we came home and saw all the lights from the emergency vehicles on the road in front of our house.  My first thought was that something may have happened to one of the neighbors’ kids.  They’re little, and full of mischief.  It could happen.

Instead we pulled up to the scene and find a patch of grass burned, right up to our mailbox.  The wind was very strong from the south, and the fire was going to head to our house.  I am thankful that our neighbor noticed it and, after not being able to find us at home, called 911.  It’s one of those things that can happen, though this is the first time since we moved in here that it has ever been an issue.  And then there was the discussion: How did it start?

Two theories seem plausible. Either someone threw out a cigarette butt and that started it, or, more likely, the dead grasses produced a mold that then produced heat until the grass smoldered. Like a hay fire that was then fanned to full flame by the wind.

The area smelled like a campfire for a while afterward, and the black patch is there.  It will be replaced by green soon, and will be the only green space in the WPA aside from around the sloughs.

And the biggest lasting impression seems to have gone to Emily.  She was asleep as we pulled up and opened her eyes to all the flashing lights around us.  She was disoriented and scared.  The next day, she spent quite a bit of time at the window looking out and calling back to me, “I don’t see any fire yet, Mom!”  I spent a lot of time hugging her and explaining to her that there won’t be any more fire. The neighbor saw it and called the fire department.  The fire department came and put it out.  But still she watched and asked questions.  It’s her way of figuring it out and getting back to feeling safe.

Yes, there was a fire.

No, it didn’t burn the house.

Yes, we are safe here.

I know, because that’s the first time since we’ve lived here that it happened.

No, the grass was dry and there was a lot of wind, that’s why it was burning.

No, the black part won’t go away right away.

No, the mailbox did not burn.

Because it’s metal, and metal doesn’t really burn, it melts first.

And so on and so forth.  And in answering her questions, I found myself starting to relax more. Yes, we are safe here, and no it didn’t burn the house.   And all is well that ends well.

Here is a picture of Charlie sleeping, just because I can:

I want to write about reading today. Seems strange as writers are those who create what we read, huh?

Anyway, reading is on my mind because I have lovingly watched Kirstin transform from a little child— sitting in laps, getting books out of the book case to have them read to her—to today—still getting books from the book case, but much thicker, and curling up on the couch, the chair, her bed, and reading to herself. On the morning of her eighth birthday, she was wearing a tank-top, ripped up jeans, on the couch reading a book. And I couldn’t help but think: This is awesome!

Reading has opened up so much for her. She can find any information she wants now. She uses reading to learn about anything that may be in her mind. She reads to entertain herself. She reads. Period.

Now I am lovingly watching Emily go through the same process. I am here to guide her, as is Matt, and Kirstin, too. While she sits in the chair, with “Hop on Pop” by Dr. Seuss open on her lap, reading to Mongo cat, I feel pride. Pretty soon she’ll be the child wearing a tank-top and ripped up jeans on the couch reading a thick book.

And here’s the fun thing: Both Kirstin and Emily have the foundations in place for being successful in school and life, because they are both readers (or will be soon).  That’s the best part.

We all read in this house. Emily reads her “Hop on Pop,” “One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish,” and has an obsession with the “Judy Moody” books by Megan McDonald. Kirstin reads whatever books she picked out for the day. Lately she has been reading the “Ever After High” books by Shannon Hale and anything else she can get her hands on. Matt reads a lot of articles online, from most any genre.

And then there’s me. Lately I have been on a Minnesota author kick. I just finished up “The High Divide” by Lin Enger. I have two books of short stories by Minnesota authors waiting for me. From there I have a few reference books to look through and absorb. And after that, I don’t know. It depends on what I’m in the mood for.