The white ashes show the snow of winter, the reflection of cold frost and frozen icy rivers. The charcoal hints of the blackness of night and the dark times in the lives of mankind. The blue flames remind me of the noon day sky the brilliant brightness of a cloudless day where children run and play with no doubts, just loving the moment. The light from the fire gives me faith that the night will end and the sun shall rise again a new day with opportunities to make good choices. In the orange flames I see the sun set the aged life of grandparents and I see the orange glow of sunrise a new beginning of birth and childhood. As the logs burn down and are reduced to ashes I see the compost piles decay as they prepare the fertilizer for my next years crop of succulent fruits and vegetables. Above the glowing coals I see the heat waves of the afternoon desert hills across valleys of rabbit brush and prickly pear. The flicker of the flames are a tiny sample of mighty solar flares from our sun millions of miles away. In my camp fire I see the seasons and I am reminded of the beautiful things that make life a wonderland.
I see glowing coals cooking my humble meal and I feel gratitude. I see warmth radiating toward tiny held out hands. I see the warm satisfied faces of mothers holding babies with gazes fixed upon the flames. I see the hypnotized minds of grandparents looking deep into the coals as if to search for answers from the embers. I see the eagerness of youth to get close but not get burned. I see families dinning on tin foil plates of campfire dinners. I see education in it’s perfect form. I see a moment of celestial teaching.
