Snow for Pyros

My house is surrounded by these damn trees that release fuzzy, cotton-like puffs this time of year. Some people call them cottonwood trees, some people tell me they're poplar trees. I don't know the name for them, but they're hell. Seriously. This is my front lawn.


And this shit goes on for about three weeks. It's disgusting and messy and cutting the grass just makes it fly all over the place and stick to you and get in your eyes. Sometimes, if there's a big storm, the rain will knock some of it down and mash in the stuff that's on the grass and there'll be a day of relief before it starts again.

If there's no rain, there is one thing you can do to get rid of the stuff. Burn it.

You have to make sure the grass isn't TOO dry, or else it'll just catch on fire and burn to a crisp along with the cotton. Last year, my neighbor, who's a chemical engineer and a bit of a pyro, torched his entire front yard by miscalculating the moisture on the underlying grass. It was great fun for a few minutes!

I live about two minutes away from the beach here, and that's also surrounded by these bastard trees. So when it's a day without much wind, the bay gets nice and still and the cotton floats on top and congeals together, and that can be lit and you can watch the flame rush across the bay. You're not supposed to do that, as boats can catch fire. But every year some dumb teenager doesn't think about that and ends up burning the bay. I did it with my pals about 20 years ago. I know my nephew is maturing quickly, as he was escorted home in a cop cruiser yesterday with a few of his pals. They'd set the bay on fire. I lectured him sternly, pointed to our neighbor's lawn and told him don't ever try that shit on my lawn.

That'd be taking away my fun.