Join me in Rosslyn’s nearest back meadow where Glen and Tony had gathered brush that they cleared during the winter in an area north of the orchard. They exposed an old, crumbling cistern and removed the masonry and metal debris; tidied surrounding overgrowth to provide a more suitable area for our Amish friends to graze their horses and park their buggies this spring, summer, and autumn; and they gathered the brush and branches adjacent to our firewood and tractor attachments for burning.
For weeks the brush piles have been blanketed in snow. Waiting. Once snowy winter began blending into soggy spring and the conditions became suitable for several days of safe burning, the bonfires began. There’s something transformative about this process. Clearing the clearing. A seasonal ritual preparing for spring growth. The promise of renewal. Liminality…
After Brush Burning
This is the muddy meadow
between winter and spring
where we sift through seasons.
Matted, dormant grasses
ground bare winter trees
and a brilliant blue sky.
Overgrowth and deadfalls,
gathered by gloved hands, burned,
have warmed the cold earth.
Patches of snow persist
near scorched, muddied soil,
charred twigs and branches, ash.
Smoke’s memory lingers,
awaiting sun-drying,
seeding, and, soon, tender shoots.
Thank you, Glen. Thank you, Tony.
What do you think?