Bonfires

Another memory of bonfires.
On the beach when young,
The salt soaked wood making that special tantalizing smell only salt water can make,
the sense of smell and taste.
The waves beating against the shore, wave after wave after wave, after wave.
The smoke from the salt water soaked wood rising and making a steamy smoke in the air. The crackling, fire spitting out little spurts of fire bursting in the air with a snap.
The smell of sand of many days and nights being beaten against the shore, and a few days of hot sun beating down, roasting it.
Those fires where just that....a fire to keep warm in the cold northern California air. To keep the night at bay and the body warm. They were wonderful.

Bonfires now are of the woods, the smell of the woods, rising to the air and giving off scents of moss, bark, rain soaked and dried leaves, and anything and everything gathered to make the fire roar, into the night. Rising in the dark, filling the animal eyed darkness with soft light from the campfire, the bonfire. They are also fire to cook the food, the steaks, chicken, toast, hamburgers, ribs and fish of many a night. Potatoes and corn wrapped in tin foil and cooked in the coals pulled away from the fire so not to burn them.

A teenage memory

A memory from when I was 13/14.
I remember the bedroom with the twin beds.
I remember the stereo playing loudly into the night, Patsy Cline, Marty Robins, singing cowboy songs. They were sad and I liked to listen to them while falling asleep.
I remember feeling safe there.
I remember the cool brown leather chair on a hot hot afternoon in the welcoming room with the books in the bookcase. My sister worked at the local bank so I was there alone most of the day except for when the guys came home for lunch. In the hot afternoons I would sit in the leather chair reading gown-up books.
I remember bologna sandwiches, with Dr Pepper and potato chips. I remember the thick slices of tomato, homemade pickles, and lettuce in the sandwiches and how they tasted with the Dr. Pepper.
I had never had bologna or Dr Pepper before.
I remember the very large house, different from the one I grew up in but similar. It was open inside and had lovely antique furniture. It also had a mother. She was nice to me. My sister didn't like her much. I didn't know why, really, except maybe she didn't get along with her son. This was the first place my sister lived with her husband after they were married. My sister's mother in law went to live with one of her daughters a year later.
I remember the big sorrel mare, so big that I had to climb up on a bale of hay to saddle her with the heavy saddle. I rode her bareback sometimes, because it was easier than putting the saddle on. I loved to ride her out in the field by the house. She was fun to ride because she was so big and she minded well. She was going to have a foal and She liked to run. Her name was Millie.
I remember the boy who used to come and work with my sister's husband. His name was Andy, he was 16, and he liked to tease me. He was a sweet boy really. He was nice to me. I had a crush on his older brother because he was so shy. They both had girlfriends.
Andy had twin sisters who would come and take me riding with them, I would ride behind either of them on their tight little mustang horses. They were wild. We would ride at breakneck speed along the canal road. I would hold on, the wind in my hair and know we would get there in one piece. It was exciting and I loved it all. Darlene and Carlene slept with their boyfriends. I was so aware of it all. No one talked about that much in my family while growing up. I was interested in hearing it all. They read National Inquirer, and teen magazines. They would leave them at the house. I had never seen them before. My mother didn't like them.
I remember a dance my other sister and I went to when she was there visiting as well. It was an outside dance and I had to wear a skirt. I didn't much want to go and I hated wearing the skirt, but I went. No one asked me to dance. I was so young. Andy made one of his friends ask me to dance. I didn't really know how to dance. It was awkward.......I was awkward. I was glad to get back home.
I remember Summertime visits with my sister were too short and I would return to my own life after a few weeks and dream about being back there even though I loved my life at home.  I would adjust again to my life at home after about 2 days but I would miss my oldest sister and her different world.

To Blog or not to Blog.

To blog or not to blog.
When one likes to write creatively, it is sometimes like pulling teeth, painful,
Or, it flows down by way of gravity to a pool of words.
One can hope for all things wonderful coming out on paper or one can ramble and have nothing but a lot of words. Incoherent at times but then it depends on the reader and the time taken to try to understand.
One must be honest with oneself but not with the audience. Honesty might be from the subconscious and not from the immediate memory. So what is really the honest memory?
Another question. I am not answering that now, here.
For this entry is about to blog or not to blog.
I will settle this by blogging that I will write creatively or not when I feel like it....or when I can remember to do it. Ah, that fleeting memory which escapes me each day.
One might think that one hides the fact that memory is escaping with the busyness of each day. With all the activities one escapes to. But if the memory is escaping how can one get anything accomplished. Exactly, one can't get everything accomplished so one ponders that for endless amounts of time. Yikes. I must get back to work.