Two Men, Two Pits and a Blog

Here and There: The Smoke That Binds Things

two island panorama


Way up yonder, on the northern tiers of Minnesota, we often press a tent stake patron to some pretty places here and there. Places of exquisite beauty, where the waters run clearly, and the breezes taste sweet, sifted through the fragrant pines.  My fellow patron and I routinely visit these locales, if not even for but one day. One day to inhale that pure, unpretentious air, and to absorb a rarefied tranquility lost, but not forgotten, in the ever-whirling cog of society. Indeed, we fancy to strike off for the wilder places just as often as we can, for to live simply, and abandon all tension there. For we are at home in the woods, by and by, and love to tarry fire-side amid the whispering pines.

Putterers by nature, we are content for hours on end it seems to cook exotic camp food over smoldering coals, repair in our chairs, and simply watch the smoke rise unto the standing pines. To tell story, and play song,  whilst dotingly poking at the fire. Bannocks baking in blackened skillets, chickadees flirting, and all the many phone calls at once escaped in our own personal, wilderness sanctum. Oh the places, the beautiful places, that we have loitered in, here and there.

Campfires of Birch and Balsam often flicker in camp, as the lake serenely laps upon our shore, and the Savory_Ribs_edit0stately pines sway gently in the breeze, like a thousand and one fly rods, nay, make that a thousand and two. Oh how we love to cook over the open flame in these places, to ply our craft, turning our spoils into shore lunch. The stars, the moon, the forest glade, we love it all, even the smoke in our face! And here is the thing I have noticed, and maybe some of you have to; every time back home when we thus light the grill, and we smell that campfire-like smoke lofting towards the heavens, are we not at once, and irrevocably so, reminiscent, and smitten deeply for these places. Because smell is at once patron to memories, and memories thus flood back of those quiet campsites nestled aside shimmering waters. And for a moment,  we can taste again the simple life we had once aspired to there. Because here it is again, deep in an urban sprawl, working over this old kettle grill;  and there are blackened skillets, and chickadees even, and the sweet fusion of memories gently forged, both here and there, over the swiftly ebbing seasons, and the smoke which curled there.  Amen.

18 responses

  1. Amen. Truly poetic…

    February 8, 2013 at 11:39 am

  2. rock on! we (group of family and friends) go camping frequently, and I swear, food just tastes better when cooked while camping! And – congrats guys on being Freshly Pressed!

    February 8, 2013 at 12:32 pm

    • I concur, every just tastes better “out there”. We love camping, and do it often, and if I didn’t do a BBQ blog, I would probably do a camping one. Turns out tho, the two outlets sort of hook up in a way.

      February 8, 2013 at 2:26 pm

  3. Well put. Whether with fly rod or hunting garb,I am also most at home in places that have never seen a discarded coke can. There’s something about the BBQ craft that manages to work equally well in this world and the backyard one.

    February 8, 2013 at 3:12 pm

  4. Great post, I am truly jealous.

    February 8, 2013 at 9:38 pm

  5. What a beautiful, lyrical way of describing one of life’s finest experiences. Well done.

    February 8, 2013 at 11:31 pm

  6. I love your way with words, you paint such a beautiful picture with your deep palette of prose. Inspiring stuff.

    February 9, 2013 at 3:05 pm

  7. Pingback: News from around the BBQ Blogsphere | The Arrogant Swine

  8. grizyeti

    This……all I can do is sigh, and wish. It just made me happy and serene.
    Thank you so much.

    February 10, 2013 at 8:33 pm

    • My pleasure. It’s getting that time of the year again you see, when we all get a bit restless, pining for the woodlands and the outdoor life. Writing about it seems to help. Then again, maybe it doesn’t.

      February 11, 2013 at 9:35 am

  9. grizyeti

    Reblogged this on Grizz-Tion and commented:
    Want to escape into serenity? Cathartic experiences and thoughts await. Follow this link, and let your mind drift into the North Shores of Minnesota and the poetic wistfullness of this post.

    February 10, 2013 at 8:36 pm

  10. As I sit at my desk on a Monday Morning, this post makes me want to run out of the building, pack up my tent and fly rod, and head west. Truly poetic words that describe a perfect state of being. Well done sir.

    February 11, 2013 at 6:48 am

    • Thank you. Now I wanna pack up my tent and fly rod and head west too! It’s gonna be a long Monday…

      February 11, 2013 at 8:56 am

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