Off the Grid  Retirement at our remote log cabin in Colorado

Sunday, October 23, 2016

Smoke From a Sage Fire

Posted by: Lynne

"Girl your eyes have a mist from the smoke of a distant fire."

~taken from the song "Smoke From a Distant Fire.

I promised I would share my "sage smoke" experience with you but how can I tell you about something that I can't really completely remember? I think the quote above would be just about perfect if you substituted "distant" for "sage."

It all started after our anniversary campfire dinner, when Rick tossed a huge branch of sage onto the fire. The smoke smarted in my eyes and I remember saying something to Rick like "that smells really weird" or that the smoke was bothering my breathing. Next thing I knew I was on the ground rolling around laughing with the dogs all around me and Rick trying to help me up. I was giggling uncontrollably and according to him, "uncooperative." He assumed, I think, that I'd had too much to drink. Had I? This did happen after our whiskey nightcap and a bottle of wine. He says he left me there after many attempts to get me on my feet that failed. I don't remember. 

I sort of remember getting in the house, but I honestly can't say I remember how. The rest of the night is a blur. I remember feeling woozy and unbalanced and not being able to walk right. But not like I had too much to drink. I barely remember getting undressed and into my robe and climbing into bed. I guess Rick did up the dishes, but I don't remember. I just know they were all washed, dried and put away when I woke up the next morning.

I slept like a baby. When I woke up I felt fine with no after effects, not a one. If I had too much to drink the room would have been spinning and more than likely I would have been sick. At least a banging headache and nausea in the morning, right? Nope. Nada. Trust me, I've had too much to drink a few times (ahem) in the past and this was nothing like that.

The next morning I did find my discarded leggings in a black puddle of spandex with my shoes under the stool that sits by the Hoosier. I don't remember undressing partly in the hallway. 

So, my question is this: can a person get high by inhaling sage smoke for a campfire? I have never been high in my life on anything other than alcohol so I can't say. Part of me wants to reinact the whole thing to see if it happens again, but I have to say I did not really like the feeling at all. That night is like a big black hole in my memory. 

By the way, it did not affect Rick at all.

What can I say? The whole thing is a blur.

Thoughts?

(Oh by the way, I just realized some of you might think I am talking about the common sage that you use in seasoning. I am talking about sagebrush which grows rampant up here. Wild sagebrush.)

About

Follow our adventures living in an off-the-grid cabin in remote Colorado. Kind of like reality TV on a blog!

Introduction to Off the Grid

Follow us on Twitter and be notified of new content:

If you’re new to this site please visit the archives to catch up.

Membership

Login  |  Register

Share

Quote of the Day

“Rudeness is the weak man’s imitation of strength.” – Eric Hoffer

Search

Calendar of Entries

December 2024
S M T W T F S
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
8 9 10 11 12 13 14
15 16 17 18 19 20 21
22 23 24 25 26 27 28
29 30 31        

Archives

Photo Galleries

Recent Comments

  • Hello Christina! How nice of you to comment about my dusty old blog! I do…

    Posted to: ‘A Chapter Ends’ by Lynne on 12/07/2021

  • Good to know.  I’m just starting construction on my property “over the hill” in the…

    Posted to: ‘A Chapter Ends’ by bill bush on 09/29/2021

  • I began following the New Jersey Girl blog years ago, and I do miss the…

    Posted to: ‘A Chapter Ends’ by Christina Muller on 08/23/2021

  • Hi Steve! Thanks for being a loyal reader through the years. I have thought about…

    Posted to: ‘A Chapter Ends’ by Lynne on 08/06/2021

  • Thanks for the update. I enjoyed the writing both of you did about this adventure.…

    Posted to: ‘A Chapter Ends’ by Steve on 08/05/2021

On This Day...

  • Nothing today

Syndicate