A Happy Accident

In my last post (which, admittedly, might have been a bit confusing), I forgot to go into detail about a single event which really made the whole evening as memorable as it was.

Sunday afternoon, "The Puff" (our nearly-6-year-old girl) was successfully wrestling with the bike she inherited from her 10-year-old sister ("Munchkin").  The "Man-Cub" (13-year-old son) was using a jump-rope to hitch a ride ─ on his inline skates ─ from Munchkin on her bike (which she inherited from her 15-year-old sister, SweetPea).  I think the Dear Bride was pulling out some dead flowers from the planter in front of our porch, and little Miss Cougar Bait (our 2½-year-old) was napping.  It was a GLORIOUS Montana Spring day, and it was shaping up to be a nearly perfect evening, as well.  So, determining that we should stay up late and enjoy it (the sun sets around 9:15pm, presently), I started packing the car for a little outdoor cook-out on our future homestead land (more on that, later).

Knowing that we should cook up the 4 trout the kids caught the day before, I grabbed our cast-iron griddle


and our propane camp stove


and our "fire bucket" (a 5-gal bucket & lid from Home Depot, stocked with everything I need to get a fire going; doubles as a seat).  We arrived at "The Refuge" ─ our working title for the homestead ─ at about 6pm, meeting my parents and my Uncle there.  My Uncle Dave was towing his restored Airstream trailer (a beauty!), which he was going to set up on the property.  We all made it safely up the driveway (which was rocky but dry, with a 9% incline), and by the time we had parked and leveled the trailer, we were all getting hungry.  So I broke out the camp stove, found my bottle of propane...

...and realized we had left the propane pipe (the part that connects the fuel to the stove) back at the house.

RATS!

After my Dear Bride and I blinked at each other in disbelief for a few minutes, I had an epiphany:

The early homesteaders didn't use propane!!

I rifled through my fire bucket and found some old dryer lint (makes a suitable fire starter), a lighter and my folding "pack grill".

(Yes, I know the early homesteaders didn't have these things, either; but hey, "baby steps".)

The kids helped me round up some rocks for a makeshift fire ring and voilá: Instant Primitive Grill:

The trout turned out GREAT, thanks to my pioneer woman (who later grilled up some potates in bacon grease).

Special thanks to my Uncle, who brought his formidable trout-filleting skills to bear on the feast.  (We had also brought along some hot dogs, in case the fish idea bombed.)  Everyone had plenty to eat, and Miss Cougar Bait kept clamoring for "more fishy".  :-)

After we topped everything off with some homemade Choco-chip cookies (thanks, SweetPea and Munchkin), I found myself thanking the Lord for the happy accident of not being able to use propane.  The outdoor fire pit was much more authentic.  We didn't get home until after 10pm that night... and little Miss Cougar Bait talked excitedly and incessantly, the whole way home.

Something tells me we'll be getting to bed much later during the warmer months, when the sun lingers outside until well after 10pm.  The seasonal life is the life for me.