a little fire, a lot of life

I never thought of fire as life-giving. Some seeds sleep under the soil for years until a fire rips across the land and life inside the seed ignites. The daughter of a boatbuilder and an artist, agriculture was not in my genes, botany only a word I read from time to time. Now living out here in the plains, every person has all of this in their heritage. Just like the lobsterman who leaves at dawn and returns tired and smelling of baitfish, the plainspeople smell of earth, sweat, and smoke. This work makes me think of my sister's favorite poem, "To Be of Use" by Marge Piercy. Love it. 

I helped out with two prescribed burns last week at PPNC. As part of the nature center's mission, burns are done from time to time as prairie restoration and management. A fire done in spring kills off the exotic grasses that green up in cooler weather, wakes up sleeping native seeds, and makes room for the native tall grasses that thrive in the warmer weather. Here are a few shots from the burns. For my Nebraska friends reading this post, thanks for letting this Mainer in.  

seasons

These two photos are saved on my desktop as "Winter Trespasser," and "Spring Trespasser." Spring comes quickly out here and the temps are already in the 80s. I'll take note of the changes around this cedar fence post for you, don't worry.

Early February 2012

Late March 2012

a bit of moisture, then sun

I may have gotten close to a smokey sou'wester this morning in the great plains. You Mainers know that a smokey sou'wester occurs when southwest winds blow off the land and mix with the air flowing over the cold Maine waters, producing a thick but sunny fog, the scent of which I dream of daily -- it's a mixture of pine and salt, heavy with moisture. 

The nature center sits in a slight depression in the surrounding prairies, with a few small ponds dotting the property. As I drove down the road this morning, mist hung on the tall grasses, between the trunks of cottonwoods, and over the still waters of the ponds. I opened my windows and thought of my dad saying, "Mol, this is what we call a smokey sou'wester."

We've had a few warm days here and shorts, t-shirts, and sun block have come out in full force. The ponds are filled with turtles, frogs, and water birds; the paths in the prairie with public school kids on spring break, running and laughing. 

keep growing

Whenever I see these oaks around town, 

I'm reminded of the resilience of all living things. 

Trim it, cut it back, remove a limb, break a branch, but still - 

we reach reach reach up to the sun, to the sky, 

and embrace life, whatever form it takes.