southsamurai

I dunno, back in my younger days camping with my family I was always up in the smoke and my clothes were fine. Had long hair, and it was never a bad smell. As I got older and did have a beard, I can’t recall it ever smelling unpleasant the next day, and I’m known for catching even faint smells after years of taking care of patients where faint smells can be a sign of something important.

Maybe it depends on the wood? I know a pure deadfall fire can be stronger smelling, and you can get some strange odors indeed if you buy firewood that’s been sitting, though I can’t think of any that stank.

New cane day is nice, if not as nice as new knife day. Or new insert hobby item day by virtue of canes being an unpleasant necessity most of the time.

I don’t have a lot of them. But I also tend to carefully select mine. My main is a cane masters basic version. A handful of folding aluminum ones (including the backup one in the car). One that’s more of a walking stick than a cane by virtue of a head that’s impractical for bearing weight (lumpy skull). Two sword canes; one that’s cheap and decorative, the other useable.

I need to save up and snag a backup cane masters one, but they’ve stopped selling that model, and what they still sell tends to be more aggressive looking, and I prefer something less questionable for the rare visit to places that are restrictive. They’re fairly over priced as well, but there aren’t many companies making canes are the dimensions and handles I prefer, so I’m stuck

Hope your new one gives you many miles :)

Here and there, yeah.

Man I fuck wit fire. Well, used to; my old, crippled ass can’t fuck wit much any more.

Point is that being the fire tender isn’t exactly a no skill job, and it comes with some serious benefits.

You gotta have at least a basic understanding of how fire works if you want to keep it going, and learn how to keep it controlled. That’s why fucks-wit-fire is such a coveted, but demanding, position. See, you gotta keep an eyeball on it. Stacking in fresh fuel in the right way. Keeping adequate air flow. Moving unburned fuel into the center. It’s a dance.

And for that effort, you not only get the delightful scent of wood smoke in your beard, and the glow of warmth across your flesh, you get to see the ever shifting beauty of the fire and the embers. A constant flux of colors and lights that seems alive. I’d hypnotic, meditative, and can be a spiritual experience if one leans that way.

Ash, drifting on breeze settles into your hair as sleep looms and you bank the fire, setting things up for the chilly morning to come, you look down at your friend glowing beneath ashes that only reluctantly settle in for the night.

You go to your rest warm, fulfilled, and at peace.

That one kid looking at the photographer with intent to harm

That’s a misleading description of what bees do.

That being said, if we could actually make honey that way, id be making my own and be happy with it