Sometimes it’s hard being a gentleman farmer as Dad purported to be. One day during the July 4th weekend he decided to set the grasses around our house on fire. I don’t know whether he got sick of cutting the grass, because the sheep were gone, or because he read somewhere that it was good for the lawn. In any case, it was a hot dry day, with a good stiff wind and the eight acres around our house lit up like a bonfire. The fire department was called. Evidently they were called out to three other fires that day from other like-minded gentlemen farmers. It even made the papers. I never felt in danger or worried that the house would burn down. It was just very cool hearing the sirens come down Wood Street, the smell of the smoke, and watching the Firemen put out the flames. Strangely enough, I learned that forestry programs now effectively use controlled burning to remove undergrowth, harmful pests, and limit tree diseases. My father was perhaps ahead of his time, but he just didn’t practice the “controlled” part.

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