Fire Ecology

In the Black Hills of South Dakota, the Ponderosa Pine Trees seem to scrape the skies, standing tall and singing like instruments in a giant wind garden.  Scraped to ooze their yellow sap by passing buffalo and strongly planted with impressive root systems, the trees reach skyward in determined growing attempts.  These trees, part of a delicate ecological balance, partner in a process with forest fires.  We don’t see many forest fires in Iowa, at least not anything like what I might see on television while sitting in a recently flooded Iowa river town.  Watching the news about forest fires, the television crews tend to focus rightly on the families and businesses impacted.  But, it is easy to miss another story that is commencing with the fire sweeping through, initiating a new process of growth.  The germination of this particular tree, the Ponderosa pine, requires the natural fire process to germinate new trees.   The seeds require the high heats of a sweeping fire to awaken, as it were, and begin their own sky sweeping growth and development process.  Nitrogen is put back into the soil, dead undergrowth is burned off, and the forest floor is opened up to new life.  It is a destructive process of renewal. 

In passing through the Black Hills a few years ago, I remember seeing the destruction of the fire across the hills.  Charred bark, blackened ground, and dead undergrowth scarred the once green landscape.  It was sad to see the things that were vibrant and lush only shortly before, now charred and sooty as remnants of the damage left by the fire.  Time has passed and now when I look on those same steep slopes, they are carpeted with new pine trees, several feet high and thick in the trunks.  A fresh green is the overwhelming color on the hills, and I can see where new flowers and plants are starting to form again.  The dead lifeless look of the fire area has been turned into a nursery augmenting the current mature forest population.

Perhaps we should pay more attention to the cycles of fire ecology, the processes can teach us about other things as well.  Perched on the high plains, just inside the borders of South Dakota, there is a tiny town named Ardmore.  Admore - a ghost town. 

Driving through this place was outlandishly strange; it was as if everyone had just walked away one day and left vehicles, campers, homes, furniture, etc… behind.  The buildings are in the decaying process, neglected yards are covered in saplings and tall prairie grasses, a sense of emptiness has settled over the space.  What once was a small community is now abandoned to the prairie; burned if you will by the fires of economics.  There was no good source of income, no long-term way this town worked, and a proverbial forest fire of economics has ended its life.  The death of a town is something that I can’t help but look at with a sort of morbid fascination. But, my real interest, are the people and what became of them.  Is the loss still mourned?  Have they found that after the initial char and soot that the burns have healed and they are stronger and ready for new growth? 

We all experience fires in our life, some of them may even be forest fires outside our door.  They sweep through with intensity, and seem to completely devastate the landscape.  What once at least appeared to the casual outside viewer like it was fairly in order and okay has turned to nothing but ash and bareness.  But, we who are Christ followers can trust in the growth that comes from the fires’ destruction.  Regardless if it is moving from a town because of economic fires or the ruin of forest fires, or if it is looking around your life and feeling that it is littered with charred remains, we can look with hope at the devastation.  We have a different kind of fire ecology, the kind where hope remains and good new growth can come from the perceived ruin.  

Cardinal Spots

   We had beautiful big snowflakes falling yesterday, so big that they looked like feathers falling out of the sky. On the branches of the trees sat brilliant red cardinals, tucked in amongst the twigs and bark for shelter. They were brilliant red, showing up as crimson feathered spots in the white and brown lines of snow covered trees. With all of that flying snow about, it is easy to focus on the mass of the motion and not on the one flakes movement or what else is going on. The snowflakes are beautiful and I do love to watch them come down. They can also be very distracting.

   There are other distractions I face, some beautiful and some not so, that distract me from those wondrous moments of life. Distractions, those little diversions and commotions that interrupt and serve to either disturb or amuse; they can upset our days with great joy or great frustration. But good or bad, distractions can interrupt our time with God. I was reminded of how precious that time is when remembering a recent time of quiet and solitude. It was just for a few moments, at a January bonfire when I remembered in the quiet the lovely peace of solitude with God. It is not something that has been lost on me, just in the haze of cold medicine and recovering my energy from the cold it was something that was a bit lost on me.
   Maybe I need January bonfires more often, maybe I just need to remember to look past the flurries of distraction to the cardinals perched in the trees.

Stoves and Christmas Trees

   With a favorite season of autumn, it makes sense that I love wood fires, the smell of the smoke and the crackle of the wood. But, even as I sit here and listen to that sound and soak in the heat, my thought is turning already to Christmas decorations. Fall is my favorite season, but I love to decorate for Christmas.

   In the living room, there sits a person size wood burning stove. It’s from around the early 1900s and has maintained its material integrity over the years. The wood is burning in it right now, converted over from a coal stove. Two birds grace the sides, decoratively made of iron and attached as part of the filigree and artistry of the entire piece. Perhaps it was original to the house, but if so it would have been an older item even then. I wonder how many autumns the stove has been through, how many Christmas decorations it could tell us about.
   With a heat that can seep inside each muscle, I am quickly ready for the autumn nights to grow chilly, the skies to show Orion. I will be snug inside, contemplating Christmas decorations.

Pillar Road signs and Protectors

I have been reading in Exodus recently, getting caught up in the story of Joseph. Then, as it progresses, I just can’t put this down as the people’s story is told. Something struck me the other day as I was reading. Exodus 13 and 14 refer to the Lord moving in front of the Israelites as a pillar of fire and pillar of cloud. If you aren’t familiar with that, this is the part where the plagues have occurred in Egypt. There has been severe impact on the land, and Pharaoh has finally reached the point where he wants the Israelites out.

The people were slaves for a period of time in Egypt, long enough that those were living probably didn’t experience being something other than slaves. They were now moving out in a different direction. If can be frightening to move into something new, to make changes. For them, I would imagine it would be doubly difficult as they also had enormous psychological baggage to overcome. So, it strikes me as so interesting that God went ahead of the people, “in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light.” I wonder how much heat a pillar of fire puts off or how much shade a pillar of cloud offers. Either way, it would be a comfort to see such a prominent road sign in front. “Neither the pillar of cloud by day nor the pillar of fire by night left its place in front of the people.” The Lord provided a clear sign of where to go, and then stayed there leading the people. By staying in front of them, he provided a visual reminder of his presence, that they were to literally follow him.
I love that vision! How many times have I wondered if I should turn right or left, so caught up in the possibilities around me that I have forgotten to look at the pillar of fire and cloud right in front of me. I’m so thankful that God provides us direction. A pillar of fire, that would provide light, but I don’t know how much light it would cast over a distance, how bright it was in the dark of a desert in night. It reminds me when things seem dim and dark to look for that pillar of fire to light the way, letting me see one step at a time.
Things changed as the Israelites traveled. Pharaoh changed his mind, and started pursuing the people with the force of his army. The pillar that had been in front of the people moved “from in front and stood behind them, coming between the armies of Egypt and Israel. Throughout the night the cloud brought darkness to the one side and light to the other; so neither went near the other all night long.” The people had their way set before them. They had their direction, they knew the way they were supposed to go. But, there was a threat coming behind them and the Lord moved to protect them from that threat. It would be easy to become distracted at that point, to focus on what is going on behind you instead of front of you. Their protector was now behind, guarding, which meant that the people needed to be brave enough to set out on the direction they had been given. Sometimes, we need to do the same. We have something which we need protected from and it may feel that God is doing just that, but not standing in front of us as well. Perhaps the way has already been given, we now need the courage to move forward, knowing we are protected.

Ash

Wood, given time and heat, creates ash. There is a large wood burning stove in the family room. The first time I saw it, I fell in love with it, the way it was shaped and had such presence in the room. At the bottom of the stove, there is a handle and a door. It opens up to a tray where the ashes are collected. They fall as the wood burns and collect in the tray. Then, as they tray becomes full the ash tray is removed and dumped outside. Ashes have been placed in the outside fire ring, the garden, and gravel driveway. The ash provides a good base for the fire ring. It can give and restore nutrients into the soil. As for the driveway, I was surprised at how well it held the gravel in during the spring melt. Even prepared ash can become something which is used to make art.

Sometimes life can feel the same way, as if everything is burning away and leaving only a messy pile of grey and black bits behind. The heat, while great during cold Iowa winters, is not so pleasant when we are walking through the fire. So, what can we learn from that? Ashes have purpose. When we are left with ashes, we now have new materials to make art with, to build up our loose gravel, and re-nourish the soil.
If you are left with a pile of ash, let’s prepare it and make art.