Thumbing his nose at calendar

The calendar said January, but the thermometer said spring.
And I couldn’t resist the temptation to do some grilling this weekend..
Actually, I’d thought of it a few days before but realized at the last minute that I was out of charcoal. (I’m old school when it comes to cooking out on the grill. My Weber uses a little propane tank to get the coals started, then it’s charcoal all the way.)
By Saturday, the supply had been replenished and everything was ready to go.
While I cleaned the grill, Connie took down the Christmas lights at the front of the house. We kept them lit all through the holidays, but it was past time to get them out of the bushes.
“What about the birch?” she asked when she came around the house.
We had an emerald-borer-damaged ash tree taken down early last summer, and in its place we’d planted a four-trunk river birch tree. It’s small now, but it’s going to be beautiful in a matter of a few years.
This Christmas, on a whim, we put a string of white lights on the young birch for the first time. It looked lovely out the kitchen window, and we got in the habit of turning the lights on in the morning to brighten our breakfast.
“Why don’t we leave them up just a little longer?” I said. “They’re festive.”
And you can never get enough festive.
A couple of hours later, it was time to start the coals, and the backyard was pitch black. I turned on the light over the back step, but I could barely see what I was doing.
That’s when I remembered the lights on the river birch. A press of a button, and the tree was gleaming.
With the charcoal getting some propane-fueled flame, I brought out a cool little Wi-Fi speaker that my daughter Sally had given me. It connects wirelessly to my iPhone.
A press of another couple of buttons, and I not only had fire and light, I had music as well.
Ray LaMontagne and the Pariah Dogs filled the backyard with the base beat of “Repo Man.” Then it was just a matter of turning off the propane and letting the charcoal reach its peak.
I hope the music and the lights didn’t bother the neighbors, but I confess that at the time I was having too much fun to worry about that.
After all, how often do you get a chance to have a backyard cookout the last weekend in January illuminated by Christmas lights and accompanied by lively music on the stereo?
It was a moment to savor.
And dinner tasted great.