Close to Nowhere

That’s a fire pit?

I don’t know the rest of the song but, there’s a line that’s drifting through my head... “It’s another pleasant valley Sunday...charcoal burning everywhere.”

I don’t live in a valley, but we are downhill. And Sunday, charcoal and heaven knows what else, was certainly burning everywhere.

A family friend was supposed to be heading off to Vicksburg next week to work for three months. Gene does something with river dredges. That’s all I know. I don’t understand that stuff.

Mitch (youngest granddaughter Remy’s fellow) decided we needed to have a party to send Gene off. He organized a big airsoft game out back (airsoft “guns” are science fiction looking and shoot plastic, biodegradable BBs) and planned a big cookout, all for Saturday.

Gene had to go to a funeral Saturday. So, Mitch and his trailhands shuffled everything to Sunday. Gene ran into his boss at the funeral and surprise surprise, he left for Vicksburg early Sunday.

Mitch and Tim (oldest granddaughter Merideth’s hubby and father of the most astonishing, wonderful great-grandson ever born) decided to have Gene’s send-off party without him.

Guys were all over our back fields all day Sunday. I have no idea who won or who was “out.” I really didn’t care.

The most wonderful baby was visiting some of his mom’s favorite friends so mom could play and I could cook, clean, etc. I really napped, but don’t tell them.

About the time Mitch and Tim were pulling the grills out (I didn’t know we’d accumulated grills) I took the desserts out to the shed. Food was cooking and smelling good! Tim was grill-mastering probably four different grills and Mitch was supervising in the kitchen at Dana’s house with the rest of the meal.

There were bunches of grown-up kids sitting outside and goofing-off and telling Tim how to grill. People and dogs and cats were everywhere.

Then, as it was getting dusky, Mitch and Tim lit the pile of wood they are burning as they clean the woods.

The fire pit they’ve built is as big around as a room almost. Lined with concrete blocks and sitting in the middle of a flat, barren spot, they pile it up with wood until it’s burning time.

It was burning time everywhere Sunday night.

I wanted to keep breathing air, so I went in. It was a great day!

Holly Springs South Reporter

P.O. Box 278
Holly Springs, MS 38635
PH: (662) 252-4261
FAX: (662) 252-3388
www.southreporter.com

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