For the Beauty of the Earth: Earth Day 2019

A neighbor burned off a pasture last Friday night. It was Good Friday. Though I'd hoped to be able to go to the community worship service, the supper schedule during this busy corn planting time didn't work out, and I needed to stay closer to home. 

When Randy quit for the night, we drove south to check out the burn. It was a calm, quiet night, and even half a mile away, we could hear the crackle of flames as they burned through the dry, brittle grasses left behind after winter.

Photo from our 2012 burn, showing the charred ground left behind.

Though you couldn't see the scorched earth until the next day, it looked charred and lifeless in the light of day.

I couldn't help thinking of the first Good Friday, as Christ hung on the cross, when things looked bleak and without hope. But there's a reason that farmers and ranchers complete controlled burns on pasture lands. The burned vegetation will give away to new green growth in a few weeks' time. The native grasses will return to increased vigor and life.

New growth after a burn we did in 2012.

Earth Day fell the day after Easter this year. And as we hauled a group of cows and calves to the Ninnescah pasture Monday morning, I kept thinking about the timing.

Ninnescah Pasture - April 22, 2019 - Earth Day

Eastertide is a season to rejoice, and discern what Christ’s Resurrection means for believers today. Amid that celebration this year is Earth Day, the anniversary of the birth of the modern environmental movement in the U.S. It's been observed each year on April 22 since 1970, and it just happened to coincide with Easter this calendar year.

 

The first job description God gave to humans was to till and keep the garden (Genesis 2:15). Later, God commanded them to care for the animals He'd created. American farmers and ranchers do that every day - not just on Earth Day.

As we worked, I kept thinking of the words to a favorite hymn: For the Beauty of the Earth. And I mentally thought of the thousands of snapshots I have taken that illustrate the beauty of this Earth, most taken near this little slice of creation on the Stafford/Reno County line. Here are just a few of them:

For the beauty of the earth

For the glory of the skies

For the love which from our birth

 Over and around us lies

Lord of all, to thee we raise

This our hymn of grateful praise.

 For the beauty of each hour

Of the day 

 

and of the night

Hill and vale

and tree and flower

Sun and moon

and stars of light.

Lord of all, to thee we raise

This our hymn of grateful praise.

So the work to care for God's creation will continue on this day after Earth Day, too. Our families have been doing that for five generations.

Rebirth

The whoosh of flame warmed our faces as we watched the fire crackle and dance, sweeping across the prairie grasses as quickly as a ballerina in a frenzied ballet.

The vivid oranges and yellows of fire gave way to a desolate blackened landscape. And, as you might remember, the "controlled burn" on our Conservation Reserve Program land ended up out of control.

But, just days later, green emerged from the black - a signal of rebirth.

To fulfill the requirements of the CRP contract, Randy planted a blend called Forbes grasses in the ash. (You can see the ridges made by the drill in the photo below, and the Forbes mix in Randy's hand above.)

Illinois bundleflower ... purple prairie clover ... false sunflower ... Indian blanket ... clasping coneflower: The names just sound beautiful, don't they? (They ought to with a pricetag of $3,492 just for required seed mix!)

Eventually, the green of the CRP grass will be dotted with these "flowers" found in some of our other pastures.

Two years ago, I was in the Flint Hills in April and saw grasses re-emerging from the blackened earth after springtime burns. Burning the prairie to replenish the grasses has been part of the cycle of life since the time when Indians roamed the Great Plains.

And the dance of rebirth continues.Sometimes we have to live through a little "fire" to see God's promise of rebirth on the other side.

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I'm linked today to Jennifer's Getting Down with Jesus: God Bumps and God-Incidences.

Smoke Signals

Best laid plans can go up in smoke. Literally.

Last week, we attempted to burn off Conservation Reserve Program (CRP) grasses on some of our rented ground. Part of maintaining CRP ground requires caretakers to burn off or disc the native grasslands during every 15-year contract and replant with a Forbes mix of grasses.

This particular ground is located just adjacent to the Quivira National Wildlife Refuge and nestled among other parcels of land owned and used primarily by hunters. So instead of green wheat fields, it's a maze of dry prairie grasses, perfect for attracting deer and turkey.

It's also in a neverland of cell phone coverage at a point in which three counties converge - Stafford, Reno and Rice.

Case in point: When Randy called 911 to get permission for the burn, the call was answered by Rice County dispatchers. However, since the burn was technically in Reno County, they transferred the call there.

By the end of the evening, we'd also be talking to Stafford County emergency dispatchers. But I'm getting ahead of the story.

To prepare for the burn, Randy & Jake used a tractor and disc along the property line to form a fire break.

The evening of the burn, Randy discovered which direction the breeze was blowing by doing a highly scientific test using toilet paper.

Before we started, Randy drew out the plan for the burn on the ground.

I like having a plan, especially when I'm going to be driving a 4-wheeler in dry grasses with Randy lighting fire behind me.

He used this drip torch to light the grasses on fire.

We began on the north side of the field, and Jake followed behind on another 4-wheeler with a water tank on the back.

As we got to the northeast edge, I snapped this photo while we waited for Jake to catch up.

We thought we had the burn controlled, so I drove along the eastern and southern borders of the field, with Randy lighting the brush behind us.

As I drove and bounced along the uneven field, I said, "I really hate this."

And Randy said, "I know."

At the time, I didn't know exactly how much I would come to hate it by the end of the day.

We got to the southwest corner, where we knew the fire would be stopped by a wheat field.

Fire is quite a force. You can hear its roar. You can feel its heat. The tongues of orange and yellow flames devour the dry grasses faster than a group of teenage boys can plow through a bag of chips.

We watched awhile and then Randy took the 4-wheeler and went to check on Jake's progress.

I waited and took more photos.

Randy came back to get me and Jake went to check on the northern side of the burn again. And then we got THE phone call.

Embers had drifted onto the ground to our north. No little water tank on the back of a 4-wheeler was going to supply enough water to overtake the fire.

Randy & I raced back to get the pickup and bigger water tank. We started dialing 911. And dialed. And dialed. And dialed some more.

Remember: I told you this was in a never-never-land of cell phone coverage. Finally, a Stafford County dispatcher picked up. I've never been so glad to hear someone's voice on the other end of the line.

And the cavalry was dispatched. Sirens aren't usually something I want to hear, but I was awfully glad to hear them that evening. It seemed like it took hours, but it's really miraculous how quickly volunteer firefighters respond when they are called.

We had fire departments from Sterling, Alden, Raymond and the Quivira Refuge.

In all, about 80 acres were unintentionally burned.

But I didn't burn one of the dozens of cookies I baked to thank the firefighters for helping us out. We are so appreciative of the volunteers who give their time and effort to help others in an emergency.