Every once in a while, if a prairie is to remain healthy, it must burn. Dianne and Andrew invited us down for this very special weekend.
We arrived after dark, and stopped at the front gate to take in the spectacular view. Far from any other buildings, the B&B stands on a hill near the Mississippi River. You can see the spotlight of a Rivertug making its way down through the channels of this great water highway.
In the morning, Dianne got the day started off right with a huge country breakfast. The guests all sat together at one table and talked excitedly about the day's adventure in combustion.
A large swath of the property is covered in traditional prairie grasses. At one time, this entire region was prairie, now taken over mostly by hardwood forests and farmlands. You can hear cows mooing in the distance, somewhere over the rise.
It takes a good burn, every once in awhile, to keep the weeds and other plants, like this milkweed in check. The grasses can recover faster and gain an upperhand in the race for rootspace and nutrients.
Lightning did the job in the old days. Now it requires a box of matches, on the right day with the right wind blowing out of the right direction. If the wind is blowing towards the house, you start the fire along the edge that is closest.
Andrew is drawing the flames along the edge with a rake. This way, when the main part of the field is lit, it will only move so close to the house before it runs out of fuel.
The flames can be impressive, but the burn is a controlled event and Andrew keeps a watchful eye. Tongues of flame appear to lick the branches a tree that has given up its leaves for the winter. While the flames can rise high, the fuel is quickly consumed and the inferno moves on to another patch of grass.
Alice Davenport was on hand to help with managing the fire. She used a rake to try and coax the fire on to the next area. I expected the whole field to go up at once, but it took plenty of human effort to get the fire to do its job.
I probably have an over-developed sense of compassion, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for the weeds and grasses. This group seemed to huddle together in fear of the impending fire, which moved closer and closer. Then, it looked like they would be spared. But the flames swooped closer and engulfed the group. Quickly only two were left, bent together in the heat. Then poof, they too were gone.
The aftermath reminded me of a scene from a Smoky the Bear commercial.
This color photo shows what was left of the grasses, a fine beginning for next years amber waves.
We arrived after dark, and stopped at the front gate to take in the spectacular view. Far from any other buildings, the B&B stands on a hill near the Mississippi River. You can see the spotlight of a Rivertug making its way down through the channels of this great water highway.
In the morning, Dianne got the day started off right with a huge country breakfast. The guests all sat together at one table and talked excitedly about the day's adventure in combustion.
A large swath of the property is covered in traditional prairie grasses. At one time, this entire region was prairie, now taken over mostly by hardwood forests and farmlands. You can hear cows mooing in the distance, somewhere over the rise.
It takes a good burn, every once in awhile, to keep the weeds and other plants, like this milkweed in check. The grasses can recover faster and gain an upperhand in the race for rootspace and nutrients.
Lightning did the job in the old days. Now it requires a box of matches, on the right day with the right wind blowing out of the right direction. If the wind is blowing towards the house, you start the fire along the edge that is closest.
Andrew is drawing the flames along the edge with a rake. This way, when the main part of the field is lit, it will only move so close to the house before it runs out of fuel.
The flames can be impressive, but the burn is a controlled event and Andrew keeps a watchful eye. Tongues of flame appear to lick the branches a tree that has given up its leaves for the winter. While the flames can rise high, the fuel is quickly consumed and the inferno moves on to another patch of grass.
Alice Davenport was on hand to help with managing the fire. She used a rake to try and coax the fire on to the next area. I expected the whole field to go up at once, but it took plenty of human effort to get the fire to do its job.
I probably have an over-developed sense of compassion, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for the weeds and grasses. This group seemed to huddle together in fear of the impending fire, which moved closer and closer. Then, it looked like they would be spared. But the flames swooped closer and engulfed the group. Quickly only two were left, bent together in the heat. Then poof, they too were gone.
The aftermath reminded me of a scene from a Smoky the Bear commercial.
This color photo shows what was left of the grasses, a fine beginning for next years amber waves.
