Wildfires

 

During most of the day and a half it took us to drive home, the surrounding hills and valleys were clouded with smoke.  For the most part, distant mountains were not visible at all and the sun played hide and seek. Although we never did see actual flames, we knew the extent of the burning: 30 separate fires in Montana, 33 in Idaho, 16 in Washington. One might have thought the entire west was on fire.

 

It was bound to happen, of course. With much of the country experiencing a long, hot, dry summer, thousands, if not millions, of acres of dead and dying trees throughout the west due to insect infestations, and years of well-meaning fire suppression, it is all a huge tinder box just ripe for burning.

 

 

Fire has been a part of earth's natural systems for eons. While we may see nothing but devastation, many ecosystems, such as prairie and conifer forests, have evolved with fire as a natural and necessary contributor to the vitality and renewal of habitats. Many plants have developed traits that allow them to regenerate after a fire. Some store energy in their roots for recovery and regrowth afterward; some are killed outright, but over years have accumulated long-lived seeds in the soil which are stimulated by fire to germinate and grow.

In some cases, it is the heat of the fire that breaks down or cracks an impervious seed coat, allowing the seed to absorb water and grow when the rains start. Smoke or charred wood sometimes produces a biochemical effect on a seed that facilitates germination. Some evergreen cones remain tightly closed on the tree for years (sometimes for the life of the tree) unless they are stimulated by the heat of a fire to slowly open and release their seeds. Spectacular spring displays of wildflowers and verdant carpets of seedling trees often appear the year following a fire.

Just as numerous wildfires move through the west, we are each, in our own way and time, inundated with troubles. Loss of a job or loved one, money or relationship/family problems, separation, divorce, illness, disability, aging, and looming death take their toll. The damage can be staggering; some of us will ultimately survive longer than others, but in the end we all will succumb. Until then, most of us will survive and somehow muddle through. We were created with the ability to adapt and are more resilient than we may think, but during difficult times, especially, we need to be there for each other. It is what we are meant to do.

Remember the burned fields and forests - after the worst has passed, new growth does appear and life goes on. Much will have changed and some places may never look the same within our lifetimes, but the land has been swept clean and nourished. Time passes, and with it the old ways of seeing and being. Damage has been done, but that does not mean that there won't be a new beginning - and new beginnings can be stunning.

 

For misery does not come from the earth,

nor does trouble sprout from the ground,

but human beings are born to trouble

just as sparks fly upward.

"As for me, I would seek God,

and to God I would commit my cause.

He does great things and unsearchable,

marvelous things without number."

Job 5:6-9

 

 

Sparks on the Tongue

Photo by Mila Zinkova - Mbz1 at en.wikipedia

Once again, I caught myself saying something that I wish I hadn’t. And once again I learned - it was too late to take it back. The good thing is that as I get older, I’m more aware than ever of what comes out of my mouth, especially about others. The bad news is I continue to spout off and who knows when the spark will catch fire?

Two summers ago we drove through parts of Yellowstone National Park and I was, yet again, truly amazed. The scenery, wildlife, paint pots, and geysers are all impressive, but I revel in the sight of thousands of sturdy young evergreens covering vast tracts of land. The last time we were there was four years ago, when I was able to stand among them - they were finally taller than I am.

MrBell for the Bureau of Land Management

We were also there in 1988, a horrific year for forest fires, with thousands of acres aflame throughout Yellowstone and the west in general. We were only passing through on our way to visit family elsewhere, but were held at the entrance until a long line of cars formed, then escorted through by an official car. There were strict rules that year - keep all windows up and NO stopping. It was eerie driving through that cemetery of charred trees, the ground smoldering like a gigantic inferno. The newspapers and nightly news screamed that it would never be the same and many people believed that. The fires that burned the trees also cracked open their cones, releasing their seeds to grow in the ash-enriched soil. New life took hold and today a young, healthy forest is replacing much of the old. But, it’s taken over twenty years.

Another wildfire was more personal. Years ago, my family had a cabin on a lake where we spent weekends and had a once-a-year family gathering. After one weekend there, I went with my older sister to spend the night with her before she took me home later. That evening, a TV news story caught our attention. Out near the cabin, the local bar and grill had been burning paper trash when a wind came up. Sparks from the burn barrel were blown into dry grass, which fueled a quickly-spreading fire. Their small garden hose was useless against the wind-driven flames and they watched helplessly as the fire leapt into the surrounding trees. This forest fire raged on the screen across country that was very familiar to us. The next day we drove out to view the damage. Because of the wind’s direction the fire missed our cabin and others in the area, but its damage was extensive, leaving acres of blackened trees in its wake. It’s disarming enough when fire comes so close to damaging what you hold dear, but there was something else - we also had burned trash behind our cabin. We had hosed down the ashes very well, making sure all trace of fire was out before we left, but we also knew we might just have been lucky. We never burned again.

Bcasterline

 So it is with words - play with fire and it is only a matter of time. Undoing the damage can take a long time.

...Likewise the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of his life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.

      All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles and creatures of the sea are being tamed and have been tamed by man, but no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison.

      With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers, this should not be...

James 3:5 -10

Fire picture files from Wikimedia Commons

Yellowstone Revisited

We ask other hikers if they have seen the bear

The sign warned of.

No one has.

They all have heard of someone else who has.

They say he was headed back over the ridge,

Toward the lake from which we have just come.

He, like the huckleberries,
Grows thick and plump this year.

Dark clouds hide jagged peaks,
envelop distant forest.
Hungry for sun,
People wonder out loud when summer will come,
Now that July is nearly gone,
And the rain continues.

It sifts down from the gray, beads on my jacket,
Slowly forms rivulets, drops to the ground.
I see it soak into earth, dampened for days now,
Still thirsty for more.

Old trees surround us,
Bare and blackened.
At their feet,
filling all space between,
Soft, young evergreens grow waist high.

Twenty two years ago the fires raged.
All efforts to control them failed;
Fueled by deadfall, drought, strong winds,
Their fury and destruction screamed
From headlines and nightly news.
By September, thousands of acres blackened,
They said it would never be the same.

We were there.
Waited in line, did as we were told.
Drove miles and hours without stopping,
Windows closed, through thick smoke
and searing heat.
No sun that day either
- nor for many more long after.

Now we rest under a large tree,

Seeking refuge from the rain.

Mountain Bluebirds flash bright among green.

The lake is brim full, clogged with water lilies.

Through binoculars distant white spots

Become pelicans and swans.

Two ospreys sit high above, sharp eyes scanning below.

Hillsides undulate with grasses

Still lush and green.
Rumpled foothills are
Nubby with grey-green sage.

Around us, wild blue lupine
flow and fade off in all directions
as far as we can see.

Jeans wet, boots muddy,

I raise my face to the gray sky

And laugh.

(The great wildfires of 1988 included 50 within Yellowstone National Park, scorching 12 million acres and burning 793,000 (36%) of park land. The history of wildfire in Yellowstone is long and varied. Even before written records of fire, we see evidence of fire in soil profiles, lake sediments, land slides, and in old-growth trees that have been scarred by fire. The majority of these fires have been caused by lightening, although a few are human-caused. Many species of plant life in that area are well-adapted to fire. Some, such as Aspen, have underground root systems that are not harmed by fire above ground and readily sprout after. Others, such as Lodgepole Pine, have their seeds sealed in cones by resins and require fire to free them for germination. In the years immediately following fires, huge numbers of plants sprout and thrive due to soils enriched with nutrients from the ash. Wildfires have raged there over several hundred-year intervals and it is clear that they have had a role in the dynamics of Yellowstone's ecosystems for thousands of years.)

Undercover Activities

Clearly, I remember catching sight of 2 neighbor boys crouched down among the weeds behind our fence. Wandering over to see what they were doing, I discovered they were attempting to light a small fire in some paper trash. I played often with these boys and we all knew the rules: matches were not for playing with. Afraid of being labeled an accomplice, I quickly turned to leave with their admonishment ringing in my ears - “You better not tell!” I didn’t - quickly busying myself with some play in the back yard. It was not long before the weeds and grass, grown tall and tinder dry through the long summer, caught fire with a vengeance. Flames moved quickly down the line between the gravel alley and our wooden fence, a cloud of smoke rising above. My dad, working in the greenhouse or shop, luckily noticed it and pulled a long hose out to quickly extinguish it. I continued playing and when questioned, swore I knew nothing. I did not want to get in trouble - from either my parents or those boys, who often threatened to beat others up, although they never did. Later in the day, after gentle prodding and explanation of just how serious the situation might have become, I finally did tell what I had seen. I do not remember what happened after that, whether my parents called the boys’ parents or just kept an eye on them, but I was off the hook - at least in this instance.

“Do NOT feed the sea gulls!” I always informed the kids at my summer camps. One young boy, however, could never resist, and daily spent some of his lunch time at the railing, his back to me and his hands out of sight. Somehow, he did not think I would find it suspicious that he took extra slices of bread or that a number of sea gulls frantically circled overhead above him. He only smiled sheepishly as he lost outdoor privileges.

Working in the garden, I came across a stem with several clumps of what looked like spit. Curious, I gently poked into the foam, revealing a tiny, soft, green bug. Further exploration revealed a bug in the center of every mass of foam that I found.

Immature bugs, or nymphs, spittlebugs earn their name from these small patches of “spit” they create along the stems of plants and meadow grasses in late spring and early summer. While feeding on plant sap, these nymphs provide themselves with a moist habitat and protection from predators. Mature adults, called froghoppers because they resemble tiny frogs, feed on plants too, but create no spit. They have hard bodies and, like frogs, can leap a great distance in a single bound.

Well-disguised and working undercover, spittlebugs can harm plants if present in large numbers, or if a secondary infection moves in. Now that I know how to recognize them, I keep my eyes open and carefully squash each one that I find on my garden plants, leaving wild plants to fend for themselves.

Years later, I asked my dad how he had known that I knew something about how that fire started. He had found my behavior strange, he told me - continuing to quietly play while a fire raged in the alley. Although I had attempted to shield myself with an invisible bubble, my father knew. They always do.

Who can discern his errors?
Forgive me my hidden faults.
Psalm 19: 12

He who conceals his sins does not prosper,
but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy.
Proverbs 28: 13

Therefore, since through God’s mercy, we have this ministry, we do not lose heart. Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of God.
1 Corinthians 4:1-2