FIRE IN THE HOLE I can’t even begin to imagine how many times I’ve lit nice fat

FIRE IN THE HOLE

I can’t even begin to imagine how many times I’ve lit nice fat aromatic candles for an evening, and sometime later fallen asleep, only to wake up in the wee hours, when they’ve sputtered and melted, put them out and gone to bed.

I’ve laughed at people who, with concerned paranoia, cautioned me that candles are a hazard. Especially at my log house, where there wasn’t much available to burn.

I’ve literally had fifty candles burning at whole-house parties without incident.

I’m not sure exactly how it started from the candle on the nightstand, but tonight the mattress, bedspring, and bedding caught fire. And we had a hard time putting it out. It spread so fast I didn’t think we could.

I’ve had a few small obligatory kitchen fires. I’ve had the usual napkin catch on fire at the dinner table. And helped others put out tablecloths, hair, dresses and shirtsleeves. I did light an enormous rural brush fire as a kid while playing with firecrackers. But never anything really serious before — at least that I remember.

I’ll remember this one. That gaping hole in the bedspring will remind me. And I’m not going to replace it — just so that I’m sure it does.