The Grass fire on Sunnidale Street

By Sharon Weatherall

The marshmallows were cooking nicely as we stood by our small fire pit constructed of red bricks and old refrigerator racks. It was the last day of our weekend camping experience and we were just making up from an argument - one of several we had during the weekend. This was par for my cousin Kathy and me as we couldn’t usually get along for more than a couple hours at a time.

On this windy day in late August we had debated about not having a fire then decided to have one anyway to use up our marshmallows. We were on our own as the family had gone away for a short while. We looked at each other and laughed as we pulled the burnt brown puffs off of sticks and popped them into our mouths.

At some point we realized there was more smoke floating around than seemed possible from the tiny pit we were standing in front of. Turning around we screamed in panic seeing the entire yard behind us ablaze with a fire that was spreading quickly towards the house and a mobile home that was parked at the edge of the property. You had to drive up a dusty, dirt laneway to get to the house and the whole yard was surrounded by the long, dry grass of a farmer's field.

Earlier in the week Kathy and I had come up with a plan to make a playhouse in the abandoned brick henhouse behind the house. I lived in the mobile home with four siblings and my parents on the property, which belonged to my grandparents. The big farmhouse was split in two with my grandparents living in the larger back half and my aunt, uncle and their two kids renting the front of the house.

We had come to live there in the trailer earlier that spring after selling our house in Orangeville – dad wanted to start a paving business in the area. Once it was up and running he planned to buy a house for us but still wasn’t sure where he wanted to live.

Later that fall my dad and gramps must have had a falling out because we moved the mobile to Cedar Grove - a trailer park in Wasaga Beach. Then eventually we moved back into the back half of the old farm house after my grandparents purchased a smaller house in town.

Anyway, after coming up with the playhouse brainwave ten year old Kathy and I spent a whole week lugging old furniture to my place from her place on Warrington Road - a good 30 minute walk, including a small dresser, cupboard shelving for food, coffee table and other necessities we thought we might need. We even had electricity with my dad's new extension cord to turn on our lamps and an old toaster we were using for our bread.

The henhouse was a fair size of maybe 10’ x10’ with two beds made of old wire springs and red brick legs. We had no mattresses for the beds and so sleeping was pretty uncomfortable and we ended up both nights in on the kitchen floor of the trailer. In truth the hard beds were not the only thing we were trying to escape. There were scary noises we kept hearing outside and one of the nights there was a thunder storm, so of course we didn’t want the building to get struck by lightning.

During the day time Kathy and I passed the time playing house, eating our stash of candy and food or playing cards etc. when we weren't arguing. If the fights got bad enough she or I would threaten to go home and end up over visiting Gramma’s or my aunt next door.  Our uncle made a point to tell us not to light any fires out there because the grass was too dry – I think he was a volunteer fire fighter at the time but we decided after leaving that he should mind his own bees wax.

We were very protective of the playhouse too and would not let the other kids in which caused a lot of crying and trouble from my mom. She threatened to make us rip it down if we didn't share. She was also making me come home on Saturday morning to do my chores which took away from playhouse time. Kathy offered to help me with the dusting and cleaning so we could get back out quicker. Mom, who considered Kathy to be “too verbal for her own good” did not allow her to help me so she went to Gramma’s to wait. Kathy, who didn't really like being told what to do usually, voiced her opinion loudly which caused more trouble because my mom had ears in the back of her head.

While it was cool having the playhouse by Sunday Kathy and I were getting tired of the game and of each other. We had already promised to clean up our mess when we were done and keep the area looking good. The two of us had decided to lock everything inside and made plans to camp again the next weekend. We just had to get rid of the food so it didn't attract coons and mice.

With my family away and our grandparents gone somewhere too there was only my uncle left on the property. He was sitting at the front side of the house drinking beers with a friend. Since they were out of sight and earshot before breaking it up for the weekend, we decided to roast some marshmallows and set about getting a small fire going in our little brick fire pit. This took some effort due to the breeze which kept blowing it out but using newspapers and cardboard we finally got a nice little blaze going.

Suddenly, there was a lot of smoke coming from behind us. Turning around to see the ‘out-of-control’ blaze Kathy and I freaked out and grabbed each other. ‘What the heck?????” Then we went into action mode trying to get the fire out before anyone saw it. I grabbed a piece of cardboard box and Kathy grabbed a broom and we began beating the fire. It didn’t take us long to figure out where to start  - we ran to trailer and house then began beating it towards to the open lawn. But it was a losing battle - every time we got some out another section would flare up.

Our efforts seemed fruitless with the fire racing towards the long grass along the side of the driveway. If we didn't get it under control it would reach the highway and alert passing cars…then the fire department would be called and everyone would know! Tears and sweat streaming down our faces we beat at the fire winning some areas and loosing others. Finally we decided we had to get our uncle to come and help. Kathy stayed stomping at the fire while I ran around the side of the house and blurted out the crisis to him and his friend. They jumped out of their chairs and followed me to the back of the house. "Holy shit!" my uncle yelled. "What did I tell you girls about lighting fires today?"

Both men went to work- one grabbing a water hose and the other grabbing a sheet of plywood to begin beating the fire. Eventually the whole lawn was covered with black soot - a dead giveaway that there had been a fire, but at least the house and trailer were safe. We then concentrated on the lane way where the blaze was working its way to toward the highway. Finally the combined efforts of the four of us got the fire under control. Kathy and I were exhausted and crying when it was finally out. Our uncle and his friend were surveying the damages shaking their heads at the mess - everything was covered with soot. They chastised us about what could have happened and said Grampa would be “very upset”.

After begging the two men not to tell on us we promised to clean it up and grabbed straw brooms and began sweeping the soot off the grass which actually made a big difference. We worked until we had blisters on our hands sweeping the black away until it looked pretty clean again. Under the charred remains we found bright green new grass. It took us most of the afternoon to get all the soot off the burned areas and we were exhausted but still running on adrenaline.

My uncle and his friend did not offer to help with the clean-up but after pointing out the damage we had done to my dad's new electrical cord found their way back to the front of the house again and continued their visit – no doubt laughing to think we could clean up the mess. Oh what a story it would be to tell their friends.

Kathy and I used black electrical tape to cover the burnt extension cord and then we started taking apart the playhouse and loading up the wagons to pull the furniture back to her place. I knew it would be the first thing my mom would demand when she found out and wasn’t going to wait to be told. I was in big trouble and knew it. I figured I would be grounded for weeks and not allowed to play with Kathy for even longer.

When Gramma and Grampa pulled in we were still busy dismantling the playhouse. Grampa asked why we were taking it down and we told him we were done playing there for now. He said it seemed like a lot of work for just one weekend – boy did he have that right! Then, walking along the perimeter of the property hands behind his back, Grampa then headed down the laneway past where the fire had stopped near the long grass and we followed. "You know," he said to Gramma, “I think we need to get the boys out here to burn this grass.....it's getting pretty long!"

Kathy and I nearly dropped on the spot. Had he been talking to our uncle? He and his buddy were still at the front of his house and hadn't come round yet. Maybe Grampa knew but he never, ever mentioned the August grass fire to us. As for my dad, that was a different story – our uncle wasn’t long telling him. The first thing dad did was check out his electrical cord and when he couldn’t find the burn damage, he came and asked me where it was. I told him I had taped it up and all he said was he guessed it was time to clean up the playhouse for this year. Kathy and I said we were already in the process of doing that.

That was one of the more exciting but dangerous antics Kathy and I were involved in over the years but it sure wasn't the only one - we got into quite a few messes back then but we laugh about them now.