I know it's early but it's my favorite thing every Fall--my first sighting of a wood truck, loaded with split logs ready to hit my wood pile. Never mind I may not need any this year. Just seeing a wood truck makes my hands itch for a match and a pile of logs that need burning. The smell of wood smoke is intoxicating, and you know damn well if you are one of the unfortunates who succumbed to a phony baloney fake log fire, you're not even getting a whiff of the good stuff or the crackling sounds, the occasional pop and hiss, not to mention that whoosh when you hit the gas to light her up. All you get is that dinky on off switch and a smidge of warmth. Seriously, what were you thinking?? Did that salesman stick a gun to your head or what? Convenience my fanny...have you ever cooked a s'more over your fakeo-fire? Hell, no, you haven't, and you're not gonna. You'd have about as much luck cooking that marshmallow with a flashlight.
I may have to drag out the fire pit tomorrow and give it a trial run. Yes, it's early and, no, it's not chilly enough, but ask me if I care. A fire is a fire and if you're a real pyro, or your last name is Harris, you'd already know that. Now just tell me this doesn't get your motor running? You know it does.