Burning the pine.

As a kid, I used to go over to the group of pine trees at the end of our street, dig down into the dried pine needles, and set them alight. Oh how I loved the challenge of putting the flames out before they got too high. I had a bucket of sand next to me and used to throw it on the flames, then feverishly stamp them out. It was fun at the time, and I did it quite many times as I recall.

This particular day I was over the road, doing my usual demonstration of arsonist and CES volunteer, this time with the assistance of a neighbourhood friend, Tabatha Taylor. My Mum didn't like her, not really sure why, it was just the case.

Well, we had played our fire games for a while, and bored from this, we meandered off to find something else to do. Tabatha went her own way, I went back home and headed inside. Not long after I heard some commotion in the front yard, it was my Mum running out the gate, hose in hand, heading over to the pine trees. They were fully alight!

I took one look at the flaming trees, and disappeared, this was not a place to be seen.

Now, I didn't mention that these trees were situated at the end of a block of flats, and therefore, the fact they were alight, caused imminent danger for the residents. Needless to say, there was also a good deal of them out helping with hoses to try and control the flames.

It wasn't long before the fire engines arrived, and fortunately soon after, the flames were out and the flats were spared a parching. They did however, want to know any details from the neibouring houses, as to how this may have happened. I was nowhere to be found, my Mum was most suspicious. Fire, and no me. Guilty.

When they were at the front door talking with my Mum, the curiosity got the better of me, so I surfaced from my hiding spot and poked my head between Mum and the door to see what was going on. Now, at this stage, Mum didn't know what had happened, although she had a fair idea, due to my notable lack of presence. I don't remember the content of the conversation, only that Mum was very anxious to push me back inside, and out of view of the firemen.

She recalls, that she took one look down, and saw my hair, full of pine needles, and to save a possible arson charge, kicked me out the way, whilst politely smiling and denying any knowledge as to the source of the fire. The firemen left, she came hunting.

I do not recall another hand burning lesson, although, I am sure my ass was on fire, for some time after the dressing down I would have copped for that one. And poor old Tabatha, well I hung her out to dry, what else was a guilty boy to do? Sadly, we were never to socialise again, Mum's orders.

I don't hang out under pine trees these days, but I still love fire.