Burning desire

For the past several months, I've wanted to burn some brush in the yard. The timing just never seemed right, until today. This morning, the sky was partly cloudy with a chance of rain in the forecast. Temperature was a balmy 80º. Despite the myriad things I had to do today, I figured this was as good a day as any to take care of the pile of branches and twigs already thrown into my makeshift burn pile.

I set out with my trusty Bic lighter. I thought I could start the pile by simply igniting a few dried leaves. That was a good idea, but not quite good enough.

Undaunted, I went into the house, grabbed some dryer lint and stuffed it into an empty toilet paper tube. I read somewhere that was an excellent fire starter. It might have been, had I not used too much of it. It was packed too tightly and just smoldered with that sickening smell of burnt hair. Oh, and it it died out before it could ignite any of the branches.

By this time, I had run the lighter out of fuel. I headed back to the house for a box of matches. I knew I had some, but I'd be darned if I knew where they were. Finally, after rifling through several kitchen drawers, I found a box of 36. That should do it, I thought.

I got several small fires started, but they quickly went out. I was starting to think this wouldn't be as easy as I thought. So, I tried a little more of my homemade firestarter. I used a tiny twig that was strong enough, yet small enough, to push some of the tube's contents back out. My twig also worked to rake a few dried leaves into the newly ignited flames. I used tiny twigs to catch on fire from the burning leaves. Finally, I coaxed larger twigs until I could get the branches to burn. It was a success. As the fire died down, I found more twigs and dried leaves in the yard. There is an abundance of both. Finally, I had a nice fire going.

I never learned how to build a fire. I was never a girl scout. Ironically though, when I was about 13 years old, I was a Camp Fire Girl. I don't recall ever learning to build a campfire.

Building a fire is such a primal activity. As I was arranging the burning pile and adding new dried leaves, I felt a real kinship to my ancestors. I just know my father had done this many times as a boy growing up in Michigan. It was probably a part of his routine summer chores. Thinking about that made me feel close to him.

I'm terrified of fire, so I will never abuse the practice, but burning is such a useful tool in rural areas. So much falls out of the trees that need to be disposed of. I want to make this a regular activity. I really enjoyed myself today.

Since my husband's illness more than two years ago, I find myself doing things I never did before, especially outdoor tasks. This is one of them that I really found enjoyable. There is a real sense of accomplishment when I look at the former tangle of branches in the circumference of my rock-lined fire pit. All that remains there now is a smoldering pile is ash.

Taking the spring cleaning outdoors

Wow, I'm still tired from hours spent working in our Ozarks gardens.

It was time to move the nesting instinct closer to where nests usually are--outside.

Our toil involved raking, leaf blowing, burning, digging, mulching, weeding, cleaning, planting, mowing, and lots of other things.

 Pictured here, was our biggest accomplishment. At left, my husband John is trying to coax down a branch that had fallen during the ice storm in January, 2009. For the past three years, the huge branch that had broken off has just been hanging there teasing us into trying to pull it down. Unfortunately, all our attempts only succeeded in wedging it more tightly into the fork of two branches. Last winter, we decided to just wait until Mother Nature took care of it, finishing the job she started three years ago.

Piece by piece, the old branch weakened. Pieces of it would fall here and there--until this week. With a little coaxing, we are finally rid that old oak tree of this hideous reminder of that horrible storm when the power was out for five days and so many trees were damaged, not just on our property but in the whole southern portion of the country. Arkansas was hit hard; so were Missouri and Kentucky.

I'm so happy the thing is finally gone!

One of our other accomplishments was rejuvenating the magnolia garden next to the porch, so named by its most prominent occupant.

It may not look like much, but getting this garden back into shape is always  a chore! When we created the garden, we got rid of as much Bermuda grass as we could. We pulled, tilled, burned and mulched. It was like a never-ending task to keep this garden weeded. But this year, after our seven-plus inches of rain, the weeding was fairly easy. The soil amendments we have been adding for years seems to have finally paid off too. We now have a nice little bed in which to plant more perennials and perhaps a few herbs. A few are coming back from previous plantings.

John cleaned the barrel and got the pump running in the little water feature on the left. It is always nice to hear water run while while sitting on my wicker rocker and sipping iced tea. In the late afternoon, while taking one of my many and final breaks, I watched a frog hop all the way from near the road to the garden to claim his place. Last night I heard him croaking, so he is apparently doing a little spring nesting of his own.

I brought most my house plants outdoors for the season. My aged spider plant is visible in the above picture. We moved Lady Spider here with us eight years ago. She sits on the rusty old milk can next to the house in the shade garden alongside the house. She seems perfectly happy there. That is probably because there are no cats lying in her pot or eating her leaves. For some reason, the cats just love to nibble on her leaves.

Another chore that we undertook was the decision
to turn an overgrown garden area near the road into a wildflower garden. We had only briefly touched this area. It is just a bit too far to reach with the hose. Note to self: We will need to work on that. There are two peonies, a clump of irises and a few daffodils that were planted by previous owners of the property. We may move the peonies, but the rest can stay.

Part of that project involved one of my favorite springtime chores--burning leaves and brush. The before and after pictures show the world of difference.

Fire is exciting, but very scary. During my days as a journalist, I followed too many fire trucks to grass and field fires to ever take fire for granted. I certainly didn't want to cause an innocent burn to get out of control. I'm very cognizant of what can happen.

Needless to say, that was a pretty hard days work for a couch potato like me. I spent yesterday recuperating--deciding to work on my quilt instead of venturing out into the great pollen-filled outdoors.

There is still lots to of work left to do. In fact, I think it is never ending. It is such good work though. Gardens is so satisfying. Just one of the rewards came that very afternoon. At about the same time I watched the frog claim its place, I also watched this butterfly sipping the nectar of these lilacs.

After it was all over, I wondered if there could be anything more refreshing than a hot shower and a good night's sleep to end our beautiful day in the Ozarks.

Hope springs eternal

Wow; this weekend was one of those rare occurrences when you just can't help but be happy to be alive.

The weather was 70º Saturday in the Ozarks, which provided my husband and me, the opportunity to do a little yard maintenance.  

As shown at left, we burned the some  flower beds, making very short work of the fallen leaves and grass that had invaded it. 

What otherwise would have taken days of back-breaking work to pull the offending weeds was taken care of in about an hour. 

Burning offers a good, organic approach. It was not a practice we've ever employed before. It wasn't allowed where we used to live. Fire is so much better than using chemicals on botanical nuisances. Besides, I like the smell of it. 

If I stare at this darkened patch in the front yard long enough, I can imagine it to be black dirt, rather than the charred remains of spent oak leaves. 

Moving to the Ozarks from the Chicago area several years ago, it was difficult for me to reconcile the difference in techniques necessary to guarantee gardening success. Where the ground here contains rocks and clay, which presents a real challenge. Yet there I was used to digging in the rich, black loam left by the same glaciers that formed the Great Lakes thousands of years ago. There was also an abundance of rain farther north which is certainly not the case here during the summer months.

So while I still consider myself a novice, I'm learning to garden again, however, as evidenced by my second picture--the coming of the daffodils. 

This tells me that despite the prediction of the largest winter storm of the season that bears down on us, hope springs eternal. 

Spring will come, in about 50 days, to be exact. Our beautiful weekend was just a tease, but when it happens for real, it will be easy to settle into a warm-weather routine. 

I so love the Spring. I love the Spring flowers. These venerable little daffodils always surprise and delight me. They seem to hide beneath the leaves until we humans clear away their leafy blanket. Once we do, and the sun shines brightly on them, they seem to grow taller ever day until the magic moment when they become flowers. I will never tire of this Springtime ritual. 

Now if only we can make it through the next winter storm unscathed.