No more walking

Hot, hot, hot – but before it got too scorching, the caretaker and I were up the bank behind the house hacking down some of the tall, skinny saplings that spring up everywhere. Then just as it got dark, we lit a bonfire to burn some of the older rubbish. After dark because bonfires are forbidden (so is cutting down even the slimmest of saplings), but with the way dead branches and leaves accumulate here, the whole place is littered with piles of stuff begging to be burned. Obviously, great care is called for, and we were standing by with a hose and buckets of water – just as well, because I wasn’t expecting such huge flames, and we kept having to douse them down, only to see them leap up again. Luckily, there was no wind at all. Still, I’m amazed no-one called the fire brigade, because our beacon must have been visible for miles. We were also worried we might get a visit from the environmental authorities (hands outstretched for a bribe). However, it’s now nearly midnight, and whereas ten minutes ago there were still low flames, when I looked out just now, there were none to be seen.
 
This pair of children’s shoes have been hanging on the wires for at least two years, and I feel sad every time I pass them. Shoes are a big item in the budget of the families round here, and someone must have got into a lot of trouble. Such a mean form of bullying (as if all bullying wasn’t mean).

P.S. During the night, I got to wondering if those shoes had been there for longer, perhaps since the time of the terrible floods that tore the valley apart. Maybe someone put them there in memory of a child who died. And then I followed the link in Madchickenwoman's comment below, which mentions that a death can be one of the many reasons for 'shoe flinging'. So maybe they fit the MonoMonday theme of distance - in time and space.