The stack of logs was perfectly arranged. Each one stood at an angle resting on its neighbor like a stack of playing cards waiting to be made into a house. A match was struck to the tinder below. We watched as sparks slowly ignited. As each spark grew to a flame, each log became part of the fire. The smoke gently blew towards me but quickly jumped to make another route. The smoky trail chased away the ones in its path. They moved to breathe in the more pristine air that was untouched by what the flames left behind.
I watched the tiny fragments that fell away from the log. The fire embraced the embers surrounding it inside and out. Even though it burns, the ember doesn’t disappear quickly. It sits and waits as if it enjoys the hot flame. Does it know the beautiful colors it’s made by being with the light? Deep red and orange flickers travel up towards the sky to make a yellow glow. That light illuminated the pine trees that surrounded us and sprang towards the sky. I imagined the glimmering tower of brightness could be seen in the darkness from many miles away.
“Look how beautiful the fire is now,” I said to my family. I grabbed my camera to take a picture. Just before I was ready to snap a photo, the stack crumbled. We giggled at the timing. I didn’t get the perfect picture I hoped to get. Even though the stacks of firewood fell in a pattern of their own, it still made a pretty picture.
This post was inspired by Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop: Write a blog post inspired by the word “light.” Check out other blog posts by clicking on the link below.