That's why we built the pergola, tucked into a leafy corner of the yard above the house, and with a good view of the pond and the field and the woods beyond. With an open roof (just enough to define a space without enclosing it), we can also watch the sky in grids.
Hammered copper on a steel stand, it burns evenly and moderately. Watching the flames with dear souls satisfies in us something primal: our tribe in a circle around that element of which our control is as defining as opposing thumbs and language.
Little need be said as we watch the embers, captivated by our own thoughts.
Should we walk away into the night to stand at the edge of the field, our eyes adjust quickly to starlight, and we are treated to an undulating sea of fireflies.
We imagine we feel no differently than our ancestors did 10,000 years ago.
Maybe a little safer.
copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved
