Of all the things we have in common, did we really BOTH of us turn a 20-feet pine tree into a holocaust???
My first fire was in the wetlands, of all places, when I was burning a rotted, reeking raccoon carcass the dogs dragged home, burning it in a metal barrel, in the WETLAND, I tell you, and yet, and yet, a spark, and a few dried leaves, and I actually had to call the fire trucks that day. This was in spring 2001. (Two decades ago. By now I should have learned. I should know better than to have a repeat.)
This is the first time I've made a public confessionof my fire in the wetland.
My husband knows, but I never told the neighbors, who worked full-time, outside the home, and I believe they never knew, or they'd have surely teased me about it (or worse).

Do you know how hard it is to get a fire going, and keep it going? I burned a WETLAND.... oh, and a pond liner. Pond. Wet. You know. Not supposed to happen.

But I want to hear more about Costa Rica and turmeric--enough of the confessions! My transgressions are far too numerous to recount.