If wishes were horses, I know just what kind of a fire pit I would build.
Set high on a rugged bluff over looking the Pacific
Wide open to golden grasses on the north and south, and to the west, glorious blue water
I would build a massive limestone terrace
Adirondack chairs would run the length of the space, all facing to the ocean
And a huge dugout pit would dominate the opposite side of the terrace.
I'm a major fan of roaring big fires.
And other than a big stack of firewood and a side table heaped with s'mores supplies, that would be all that I need.
But I do not have a dreamy fire pit on a golden California hillside.
My real-life fire pit is tucked into the back corner of my suburban back yard. Green and lush, it speaks of coziness and seclusion and damp summer evenings.
Rather than the product of a grand design, the space has evolved over many years, in bits and pieces.
I've made do with what I've had on hand and what I can easily afford.
Even the plantings are rescued cast-offs and runaways from other corners of my garden.
This fire pit is real and true. And while it might not be as grand as my dreams, it is mine.
And even if wishes were horses, I don't think I would change one single thing.
Oh. And also, in my real-life fire pit, I roast chicken sausages and zucchini. I much prefer them to s'mores.
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