Fire Non-Starter

Dec
5

IMG_7930
Boomer, chasing me and chewing on the end of the large branch I was bringing up to the house to break into kindling. He’s a helper…. He ended up taking another (smaller and more manageable for him) piece of kindling and running away with it.


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Posted by Suzanne McMinn on December 5, 2009  

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Comments

11 Responses | RSS feed for comments on this post

  1. 12-5
    1:28
    am

    Listen, long as the cats don’t pee on it, don’t complain. ;)

    I don’t think there’s enough orange peel in the world to offset that little problem.

  2. 12-5
    1:28
    am

    Isn’t it great to have so many great ideas for fire starters sent to you? And to be made from things you have on hand or can get readily. I almost wish I had a wood burning stove just so I could make some of these.-NOT :no: Glad to see you are giving another BBB away. Hope to be the winner. mommafox

  3. 12-5
    5:12
    am

    Boomer is such a helper to break your kindling in small pieces for you :clover:

  4. 12-5
    7:21
    am

    My dog just takes pork chops off the stove and runs away with them. She doesn’t help one bit with kindling and other chores.

  5. 12-5
    8:21
    am

    Great Staff!

  6. 12-5
    10:11
    am

    I WANT BOOMER :heart:

  7. 12-5
    10:38
    am

    Boomer found a job! :woof:

  8. 12-5
    10:43
    am

    Boomer is so very cute.

  9. 12-5
    12:44
    pm

    BOOMER!!!! :happypuppy: Bring that stick back! And while you’re at it, you need to gather some more sticks and bring them to the porch if you don’t want to stay cold all Winter long!

    Angela :wave:

  10. 12-5
    2:27
    pm

    At last Mama is playing a game he understands and can play, too.

  11. 12-6
    12:37
    am

    :D My cats play with sticks especially when I trot around the yard trailing one. Catch the stick! I think they play like a dog but don’t tell them! :lol:

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The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....






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