…there is not fire.  Just a very confused husband.   Yesterday when I got home, the tree trimmers were busily trimming trees away from the power lines.  I immediately got Maggie on her leash and we went of search of the chipper/shredder, whose noise told us it was nearby.

I asked one of the guys where they were going to dump the chips.  He said they’d dump them in my yard if I wanted them.  So by the end of the day I was the proud owner of an entire dump truck load of shredded tree parts-right in the middle of our front yard!  But that’s where I told them to put the shreds.  We have a drive through the woods in the front yard, so I thought it would be the ideal place for them.  We could spread them out and keep the weeds from growing in the path.

This morning Scott walked the dog.  Now, when shreds or bark start to ‘cook down’, or decompose, they put off a lot of heat.  So of course in the cool morning’s damp air, heat plus moisture equals fog.  He came tearing back in the house saying, “That pile of stuff in the front yard is smoking!  Is it going to catch on fire????”

A little lesson in decomposition was in order, so now all is right with Scott, me, and our front yard pile.

And next summer—great compost and mulch for my garden.  Of course, I’ll have to make a trip to the goat farm for composted manure to add to the pile to give it some nutrients, and some shredded dried leaves to even out the  brown/green ratio.   But you just can’t beat getting that green gold for free.

Oh, and this morning we were unloading the new freezer from the back of the truck when we looked up and the trump truck was backing up into the yard and off comes a second load.  I’m gonna be compost rich by summer!

Hope the neighbors don’t get excited about the ‘smoke’.  After all, where there’s smoke, there’s fire!, isn’t there?