HWY 395

A distant fire on a clear and calm winter day. I tracked it down and ended up watching a rancher and his sons burn their whole years' cache of cottonwood litter--with no reservation about wildfires. The patriarch put his beer down to greet me, and promptly forgot about it. The fire grew while we became acquainted, and we heard his beer bottle explode from the heat of the bonfire. By the time I left, you couldn't stand within twenty-five feet of the thing.