“Weee-ooooo, weee-ooooo.”  The sound was loud enough now to finally get my attention.  I put down the book that I was lazily reading, lifted myself off of the couch, and stretched out my body. 

I walked over to the window.  The warm breeze gently billowed the light drapes and my nose was filled with the sweet smell of freshly cut grass.  “Weee-ooooo, weee-ooooo,” the sirens screamed again.  Their growing intensity pushing away the tranquility of the afternoon, like thunder clouds swallowing up a sunny day.

Suddenly, I saw flashes of red through the tree-lined road that connected to ours and, then, unbelievably, the large ladder trucks started rumbling down our long dirt drive.

“What in the world is going on?” I asked myself.  I ran to the doorway, slipped on my sandals, just stepping on the back straps, not bothering to put them completely on, and pushed through the screen door.  My eyes quickly darted around the road to see what could possibly be on fire.  The garage, barn and log cabin all looked completely fine.  I was so utterly confused that I sprinted down my walkway and looked back at my house, half expecting it to be going up in flames.

When I realized that the house was not in danger, I spun around and  finally, out in the distance, beyond the pond and the berry fields, past the rock wall and into the woods, I saw gray smoke pushing its way up into the sky, and dancing above the tall pine trees.

For a moment, my mind was hypnotized by the dark twisting cloud, but my attention was soon diverted to the men in their heavy yellow suits; jumping from their trucks, having quick conversations and getting right to their work.