Now & Then: Fire and decay in Gopher Woods

Dear Uncle Ambrose and Aunt Victoria,

Gopher Woods came within a hair’s breadth of extinction, or at least a major conflagration.

If it hadn’t been for Gertie Gritch’s high-pitched screams, we could all be at the mercy of FEMA, living in travel trailers and eating at Salvation Army canteens.

Gertie, our homely spinster who habitually rises before dawn to feed all the local stray cats, was the one who spotted the smoke over the tree line near Bobby Joe Tremble’s garden.

“Fire! Fire! Get out the bucket brigade!”

Gertie shrieked as lights started popping up all over town. Her bucket brigade reference reflected her grandmother’s stories about the great Chicago fire of 1871.

“Mrs. O’Leary’s cow is at it again, kicking over the lantern,” Gertie shouted. It’s been plain to most folks around here that she tends to live in the past. Or at least her grandma’s past.

Sirens wailed and lights flashed as the Gopher Woods Volunteer Fire Department came to the rescue. Firefighters strung out hoses and searched for one of our rare fire hydrants. Meanwhile, the flames were expanding.

“Man the hoses!” ordered Chief Squirt Sprinkle. 

“Hurry or this fire could turn into a blazing cauldron!”

Folks around here had never heard Squirt sound so dramatic. Normally, he’s pretty low-key, but then, we’d never had a real fire before.

The department has done some controlled burns, usually an old tobacco barn that’s about to fall in. But this was the first time a fire came on them unannounced.

Most of the damage was to undergrowth and fallen trees. A scorched area covered about two acres, but no homes were damaged. The firefighters got the fire under control before it reached the Huggin’s old barn that’s historic and looks it.

There were rumors that a trash fire Slim Elwood lit the evening before had reignited overnight and was blown by high winds across a field and into the woods.

Ex-Marine drill sergeant Guffy Leatherback, whose house was downwind from the fire, almost lit a fire under Slim.

“Don’t you know better than to start a fire when the wind is blowing to beat the band?” Guffy yelled as he held Slim by the throat, thus rendering him unable to utter a response.

About that time, Mayor Smitty Jones, who is also acting fire marshal, came on the scene with a clipboard. He’d taken a course in fire inspection over the internet so he could fill in for the retiring Jerry Probe.

“I’d say the point of origin is over there in Bobby Joe’s garden,” said the mayor. “What’s that pile in the middle of the field?”

“That’s my compost,” said Bobby Joe. “I’ve got grass trimmings, leaves, dinner leftovers and stuff I rake up from the dog lot.”

“Oh, you mean dog dung?” Smitty inquired while taking notes.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say it out loud, but yeah, dog dung,” Bobby Joe answered.

“It’s my humble opinion that we have a case here of spontaneous combustion,” Smitty announced. “Your pile was working like moonshiner’s mash and creating heat through chemical reactions when the wind kindled up the flame.”

“Well, I’ll be dogged,” said Bobby Joe. 

Meanwhile, a bunch of the neighbors were making a fire break around Bobby Joe’s compost pile. Gopher woods was now on high alert.

“Are you going to fine me?” Bobby Joe asked the mayor/acting fire marshal.

“Nah, not this time,” Smitty said. “I figure whatever Guffy does to you is penalty enough.”

Love,

Your nephew

■ Larry Penkava is a writer for Randolph Hub. 

Contact: 336-302-2189, larrypenkava@gmail.com.