911 - Help!

We had an exciting and scary time at the farm Sunday afternoon. My DH has contracted a young man to come do some welding for us and build a good fence in front our place for extra security and to keep people from turning around their car in our front yard (yes, stupid, insensitive jerky people DO do that). DH and the welder were doing their thing with the auger poking holes in the ground for the fence posts.

Me? Well, I was watering my mums (they are in the last throes of blooming) and pansies, when we all startled at the sound of gunfire. Pop! Pop! and then several more Pops! To our east across the front 25 or so acres runs a power line and a pole towards the end of the pasture. Boom! The transformer blew up, I'm tellin' ya it exploded! Fire and brimstone rained down upon our land and then the fire ran down a length of the power line burning up part of the line and raining down MORE brimstone! All across the front width of our pasture. DH and the welder ran down toward the pole to see what happened and quickly vamoosed out of there when the wire started burning.

I got up on the porch where I could see better, and a line of fire was engulfing the hay and the south wind was blowing it several feet at a time across the pasture. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 911, and the operator patched us through to our local volunteer fire departments. In minutes the first one showed up with two small trucks. They took turns spraying and then had to run down the road to the water tower and fill their trucks back up. In the meantime, the other department sent a couple of big trucks out they, too, started spraying.

Gradually, they got the fire under control and in about 30 minutes had it contained and sputterin'. It burned out to the road, too, where it stopped short of jumping the road and burning 250 acres of Prime High-Dollar Tifton Horse Hay. All in all we lost about 25 acres. It's blacker'n black. But next spring it oughta come in beautifully and hopefully get rid of some bahia that was runnin'

through there messin' up the coastal.

Those beautiful shiny red fire trucks were black and wet and gloppy and so were the faces of the firemen. Now you know you're in po-dunk when the volunteer fire departments' wives are drivin' the trucks. But they all did a great job! I imagine we'll send 'em both a donation.

Also, one of the local TV stations came out and filmed part of it. My dear daughter who loves her parents so much and is so proud of them, flat out told me, "mom, you need to go in the house. Do NOT let them interview you!" How's that for love??? And then she said " MOM, make dad pull his jeans up! He's havin' a severe crack attack! Do you want to see THAT on TV!!!" (and he really was, bendin' over and diggin' and helpin' the welder) Which made me want us to be interviewed even more, but alas and alack, the reporters never did come up to the house. : ( I personally thought we'd've fit right into our little po-dunk community at the farm!

The Lord was watchin' out for us. If we'd not been out there, if the wind had been blowin' from the other direction, if, if, if, it would have burned up our little farmhouse, our shed, and all the work we've put into it over the last 18 months would have gone up in smoke.

Thank goodness for volunteers - of ALL KINDS! Where would we be without them?