The grass is not more flammable, on my side of the fence – Greenville Daily Reflector

We have neighbors across the way who let us know when their grass has been cut. They signal this by setting off a massive smoke bomb afterward that, when the wind is wrong, smells up the entire valley.

I have often thought about stepping over for a visit to kindly offer advice about composting rather than burning freshly cut grass. We live in the country, where it is generally acceptable practice to burn brush or even refuse.

But green grass? I dont know how this particular property owner even begins to ignite such moist organic material. As far as I can tell from the street, it mostly just smolders for hours, sometimes days. What a stinker.

I would go over and say something, but I already have the reputation of being a busybody on the family compound. And I came to that conclusion all by myself.

There are four households on the place including mine. I was remarking to Sharon, my wife, the other day on how well we all get along.

Among all of my siblings, I said, there is not a single one who inspires any sense of dread when you look out the window to see them approaching.

Sharon looked over at me, and I said what she was thinking.

Yeah. I guess thatd be me.

I have to vote myself the sibling most likely to voice an opinion about how certain things ought to be around the compound. One of my more recent opinions has to do with our own brush-burning habits on the farm.

There is a spring-fed pond that was all but ruined 40 years ago when a man who kept horses on the place came in with a backhoe to enlarge the watering hole. Except for the tiny limestone spring area, the pond has not held water since.

For decades, it has been a convenient site for burning brush and debris. I recently proposed that we clean out the pit, pack it with clay and restore it to the pristine aquatic ecosystem that it once was.

Since my suggestion, more brush and debris has been tossed into the pond for burning, including by me. But after some tree trimming a few weeks ago, I heaped the excess logs and limbs to make a new burn site a few yards away.

Eager to establish the site as the new family burn pile, I went ahead and torched my trimmings after the leaves had turned sufficiently brown.

It blazed along just fine at first, but the wood apparently was too green to catch up. I was doing some work inside the barn when my mother called and asked me to put out the smoke. I said I would check on it.

Minutes later, I noticed that the houses across the way had disappeared inside the smelly cloud I was creating.

A mound of composting grass under the limbs that had failed to catch fire was well into a long and heavy smolder. The ensuing smoke bomb was worse than any set off by my grass-burning neighbors all summer.

Its good that the garden hose was nearby and ready to douse the embers. Its good, also, that I had never offered that overheated advice to those neighbors.

Continue reading here:
The grass is not more flammable, on my side of the fence - Greenville Daily Reflector