Heat, Wind, Dry Leaves: The Rest of the Story

I’m embarrassed.

Three weeks ago I talked about a fire that one of our daughters and son-in-law kept from getting out of hand. What I said then was mostly accurate, but left out the parts that made it a good story.

As I said, embarrassed.

Particularly since I’d asked our daughter to look it over and correct any mistakes or omissions: which she did.

But somehow I didn’t notice her contributions.

So this week I’ve pared back what I said — and added what our daughter had to say [with a couple of my notes] about a small fire that stayed small.

A Hot Day, High Wind, and Kindling-Dry Corn Leaves

There’s an old Red River Valley joke where a newcomer asks “does it always blow this way?” and the local replies, “no: sometimes it blows the other way”.

This particular day — our daughter describes it better than I would:

They had decided to plow the field with 70 mile an hour wind. It was thick with corn leaves and it was almost 100 degrees. We’ve never seen anything like it. The corn leaves … piled up against anything that stopped the wind.

Corn leaves — dry corn leaves — had been accumulating on the mill’s waste pile. That’s where the fire started.

The situation could have been much worse. Our son-in-law had dug a holding pond, kept it full of water, had pumps and hoses on hand: and everyone there knows how to react.

Now, back to our daughter’s account:

“I NEED YOU”

…I had been finishing up making lunch and had called Aaron to find out when he’d be in. The noise on the other end was horrible, but I just could make out the word “fire”.

As soon as I asked what’s on fire, [our daughter] was out the door like a rocket to go help.

I asked if he needed me, I could hear him say it was under control, but I stayed on the line while getting my shoes, work gloves, and N-95 mask on [a filter designed to stop 95% of small airborne particles] just in case….

…I was just getting out the door when his tone changed I could make out “I NEED YOU” and I got on my bike and made a bee line for the back. The fire had jumped the berm we’d built up the previous year and had caught a sawdust bin on fire.

Thankfully, sawdust doesn’t burn terribly impressively when it’s been left out for a few years, but it does burn nearly forever if you don’t stop it; and with the wind, the danger was it traveling across the road and into the woods.

If it did that, well, that would be that. Even the fire department wouldn’t be able to stop it. Aaron already had the hose dousing the thing, but the pump was on the other side of the holding pond. I helped move the pump (it still wasn’t as long a hose as we would need to be truly effective).

They called Hillsboro’s fire department. It would be some time before the trucks could get there, but I doubt that they’d have dawdled.

What with making themselves heard over the wind and all: at the other end, it probably sounded like the desperate distress call in a corny action thriller.

Help Offered, Accepted, and Declined

By the time an older Hillsboro police officer arrived, our son-in-law was hosing down the waste pile while our daughter was handling smaller fires elsewhere, using a sturdy hoe she’d picked up.

She’s the same height as her mother, five-foot-nothing, with shoulders she inherited from both of us. She’s not by any reasonable standard overweight: but slender and delicate she is not.

Anyway, conversation ensued. The police officer saw a doused main fire and householders at work, putting out hot spots.

So he said something like ‘looks like you’ve got this under control. Should I call off the fire department?’ Her response:

… “We do have it approximately 98% contained, but if it goes bad, we won’t be able to stop it.” It was precautionary….

Just then, our daughter spotted a smouldering wood beam that’d been discarded. It wasn’t good enough for a customer, but it wasn’t bad enough to throw away. The beam wasn’t much over four inches across, and maybe a dozen feet long.

…It had been dropped just north of the berm and would have been used for some future project, since we hate throwing away and burning anything that could be useful.

The annoying thing about it was that it was burning from underneath. No way for Aaron to douse the thing from a distance and it was out of reach of the hose. The only way to put it out would be to turn the fool thing over.

As she headed toward it, hoe on shoulder, the police officer said —

…”Don’t you think you should wait for the…..”

THWACK! I caught it on the far side, gave two quick tugs, and yanked it completely over. I then yelled for Aaron to send a stream of water over the berm toward me and he hit it right where I needed it.

I then heard the officer say under his breathe “Stronger than I am” .

Fires Happen, Work Continues

As I said last month, folks from the fire department showed up, the last problematic hot spot got hosed, a small fire hadn’t become a big one, and nobody got hurt.

For that, I’m glad and grateful.

It wasn’t, I gather, the first fire they’d handled, and it’ll likely not be their last. Fires, and fire weather watches, happen in that part of the world.

Come winter, they’ll be dealing with other situations: including but not limited to shoveling out after blizzards and keeping the access road open.

Finally, the usual links: my earlier effort at describing that windy day, and times I’ve talked about why family matters and using our brains is a good idea.

• “Just a Little Fire, Under Control: at the Moment” (September 20, 2025)
  Same event, described without the interesting parts
• “Arba Zeri Campbell and the Telephone” (July 26, 2025)
  • Being a Catholic Family: Just the Basics
• “A Vacation, Rain, Comic Books, and a Waterlogged Dad” (June 28, 2025)
  • Showing Respect, Being a Parent
• “A Skunk, a Woodpile, Dynamite, and Rural Kids” (February 22, 2025)
  • Justice, Responsibilities, and Making Sense
• “Sledding With My Dad: Good Memories” (June 22, 2024)
  • Children, Dreams, and Choices