My husband and I celebrated our hard work by having a nice fire from all the dropped branches and the piles of shredded paper we saved all winter. Said fire happened the Saturday before Easter. From the fire and ashes … yada, yada, yada … I just like to burn stuff.
And burn stuff we did. We burned everything, the entire heaping pile of yard waste and old bills. I’m not sure if anyone else feels this way, but I get tremendous satisfaction in getting rid of stuff. Move over, Marie Kondo. Or maybe I just to burn stuff.
The thing about fires, at least fire pits, is that you can leave them to burn themselves out if you have the right set up. Just so we’re clear, I’m not advocating leaving a burning fire if you are on public property or camping. Just because I like to burn stuff doesn’t mean I want everything to burn. As Smokey Bear said,
only you can prevent wildfires.
The problem was … the night before Easter was quite cold.
Which was unfortunate for one particular bunny. I found bunny’s floppy ears and face inside of the fire ring on Easter morning. I was convinced that I was cursed, as the bunny was a bad omen, and that I would reign hell fury and fire (hahaha, see what I did there?) on me for killing a bunny on Easter.
At least until the next time I wanted to burn stuff.
