wild fire

I walked on the ashes of the old wild fire, the same sort of blackened carbon dust that you find in campfire pits. The fires had been burning for several days, and had only been put out in the past few days.

Every where I looked there was evidence of obliterating flame; scorched tree trunks, burnt grass and even the bitter taste of scorched earth were proof enough of what had recently transpired. The destruction was ugly in many ways, a manifestation of the dangers of the natural world. Nothing is predictable. Anything can go up in smoke at any moment. This -- the soot, the smell, the taste-- all served as a reminder.

As I picked my way through the crust that was once ripe spring undergrowth, I began to admire the awesome power of fire. Literally, I could smell it. A clinging, ageless scent that smelled of old hearth and burnt iron skillet. (Have you ever left flame burning too long on a frying pan? Because that's the smell.)

There was one pocket of land that hadn't been scorched, and in that glorious moment, I took this photograph.

Happy Spring 2010.