Mark and I had a ditch burning date last evening. He worked on
one side of the pasture and I worked on the other. The dogs went with him digging
for gophers along the way.
The mourning doves and robins kept me company. I swear the
robins get louder as dusk approaches; or maybe it’s just that the world gets
quieter.
I’m glad to burn with Mark. Not so much by myself. With him
close by I never have to worry about the fire getting away from me. It’s
satisfying when there is enough weeds or dead grass to carry the flame along so
that each waterway gets a buzz cut before the first stream enters. And as we
appreciate what fire can do, we’re careful to extinguish the flames just as
they clear the embankment. Plant material, old and new, protects the structure. Our
sand ditches can be fragile if left naked.
One spring when we were newlyweds, I got adventurous. Mark
was teaching at the nearby high school and I decided to burn ditch over at the
“Bartausky Place.” I was doing fine until the fire got into the willows along
the large adjoining canal. I panicked. I had a thermos along that I dunked into
the canal to throw on the flames, but the vegetation kept popping. I figured Mark’s last
class was almost over so I drove into town for his help. He knew I was in trouble just looking at my red face and near tears expression. He followed me back,
assured me the willows would fill back in and saved the day. It wasn’t the last
time.
Why do humans love fire? The flames are beautiful for sure.
And their power is breathtaking. There’s no tool to compare with fire for many
purposes. What makes me cranky is when country dwellers think they need to burn
weeds and old grass along fences, edges, etc. to create a clean slate for new
growth. What they don’t realize is the
shelter and concealment for birds and other small creatures they’re eliminating. Old
organic matter feeds soil life, moderates soil temperatures and holds moisture
in. Nature isn’t tidy for a reason.
you'll need a pitchfork |
No comments:
Post a Comment