In August or maybe September the smoke swirls off the mountain ridge, sometimes so much it clogs our view. Fires are curious; we chase and gawk at them as if they were rock stars but then we run, kick and scream in fear of their rage, their utter destructive potential.
It goes for miles, the blackened trees like so many arrows, porcupined earth.
The bark cracked, exposed white flesh, still a leader to the burnt saplings: "We gather here today knowing our fate, but we will hold our ground to the bitter end."
But eventually these once flourishing trees will give up the ghost, torrents of water ravaging the land.
Life just down the hill, it barely escaped, now just out of reach.
"Civilized" life down far below, still visibly thriving from this blackened place.
And even here there's a similitude of what is now gone.
Even with mere similitude, my experience in the blackened woods feels as wild and alive as any forest experience: stark black against white; harsh natural forms. But then, a small trunk too straight and smooth, the mark of man, a desperate stand against the flames.
I'm brought back from my dark reverie; I've sat long enough to see the lack of inhabitants, few traces of animal scat or prints, but our marks on the land are ever-present: we burn back nature from our home, afraid of wildfires, only to burn down a mountain and then fight it with a shovel when it dares to return.
4 comments:
we often take day trips into Yellowstone when we're up in Idaho and I'm always struck by the transformative power of fire on that landscape, so many years hence. My favorite parts are the rivers running through the burned areas (hillsides covered with blackened trunks, some still upright, some fallen).
Amazing how the traces of fire in Yellowstone are still everywhere; I'm going to make a annual trip up this trail to see how nature revives itself. For better or worse there will be mudslides as it is steep terrain. I feel kind of bad for the woman who started the fire as everytime there's a problem she's going to feel terrible.
I saw this earlier but didn't have time to respond. In light of your latest entry, I will now.
What I had intended to say was that I loved the new trend in your blog entries (hiking photos and poetic commentary).
So I fully support the "earnest poetic tone" and look forward to reading more of it.
I love the pictures, too--except that they make me homesick for Utah.
Thanks.
you have some great mts there too but a bit further away.
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