Every Christmas, I get the decorating itch. Some people spread holiday cheer with a wreath on the door. I apparently aim for farm-level production. In 2022, I decided even our chicken coop deserved to feel the magic of the season. Those hens were going to have the coziest, most festive little home in Idaho.
So I grabbed every stray strand of Christmas lights I could find. You know, the ones that live in that mystery tote you swear you organized last year. And I started plugging them all into one extension cord. It was a masterpiece of questionable engineering. I wrapped the lights around the coop, then shoved the bundled cord into the big pine tree right next to it. I stepped back, admired my work, and honestly? It looked adorable…for a minute.
Then the house went dark. The breaker blew. No big deal; it happens. My husband flipped it back on so the coffee maker could keep doing its holy work. But the second the power kicked in, he glanced out the window and yelled, “Uh… FIRE!”
Now, here’s the thing: my husband is a firefighter. So his instinct kicked in immediately. He grabbed the hose and sprinted outside like he was responding to his own personal 911 call. I’m sure he was half-convinced we were about to have fried chicken for dinner.
Thankfully, it wasn’t the coop on fire–just the poor pine tree that had sparked to life the second the overloaded cord woke back up. The chickens were fine. My pride…not so much.
And yes, despite everything being under control, the fire truck still rolled up the driveway to make sure all was well. There is nothing quite like waving sheepishly at professionals while standing next to a smoldering tree you accidentally lit up like a Christmas pyre.
I took full credit, of course. Because when you’re the one who plugged 14 stray light strands into a single extension cord and stuffed it into a pine tree, really… who else is there to blame?
