Kick the tires and…

 

burn1

Yesterday began the final Ragdale week. I got out to the studio relatively early after working late, quite excited by something that has begun. A few moments later, a wisp of smoke drifted past, then became rolling clouds. I grabbed the camera and ran out. Sure enough, Open Lands was doing a controlled burn on the quadrant of the prairie just below the Meadow Studio.

burn3

I’d seen a burn here before, but in the early spring.  They’re different in the fall. With the hearing aids on, even I could hear the loud popping and cracking of plants that still retained a bit of moisture, and much more was left standing than in the spring burns, when everything has retted through the winter.  The grasses were dry, though, and the expertly set fires sped through them quickly.  It was excellent to watch, and the smoke smelled wonderful and somehow clean.

burn7

That’s what’s happened to me here; what isn’t needed has finally, cleanly burned away; what’s valuable is still standing, watching over the spaces now ready for new growth.

burn5

I won’t finish this thing I’m excited about here, but I’ll leave knowing how to make it over the winter, and much more importantly, knowing exactly why I am making it.

Burn6

(Oh, and the third experimental piece worked well, too, and taught me how to reclaim the second, so I made a fourth today. And there’s more ear-fungi). The burn is over but things are truly on fire.

Burn8

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Kick the tires and…

  1. I feel I’m walking down that same path in moving along with (or maybe it’s away from) grief: there’s something frightening and good happening all at the same time.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s