Invisible Fire

Fire. Essential and dreaded. Fire has historical tendrils back to primeval times when people first discovered how to make fire when needed. Fire also includes the combustion and flames of a gas stove and oven, campfires, propane-fueled lanterns, and barbecue briquettes. All welcomed, desired.

Every garden is always on “fire”—without flames. Combustion is the oxidation of carbon-based materials which usually produces a flame. Garden “fires” are usually invisible, slow, and important. A single teaspoon of soil contains over one million of the soil’s beneficial bacteria alone This does not include: nitrogen-fixing soil algae, microbes, beneficial fungi and many other useful life. Each consumes various life-forms or inert elements and releases very minute amounts of heat into the soil. Like an aerobic workout, soil heats up—only in extremely tiny amounts.

Combustion in the compost bin also is at a lower temperature than a visible fire. Microorganisms feed on the carbohydrates; the carbon. The warmth of a well-made compost pile is tangible garden low-grade combustion. When the first nips of frost arrive, a compost made of fallen leaves, green lawn clippings, manure and kitchen scraps (I send all my kitchen compostables to an earthworm bin.) sends its wisps of warm fog to rise above its mass.

Only the fanatic composter runs the risk of spontaneous combustion. The pile has to be very large. And it rarely bursts into flames, but usually smolders like a coal mine "fire." Tim Dundon aka Zeke the Sheik (the compost king), of Los Angeles County, accumulated a compost pile over 17 years which reached the gargantuan size of 40 feet tall and up to 200 feet long. Twice in one month the pile spontaneously burst into flames and smoke, and the fire department arrived to douse the flames. While Zeke defends composting as "the key of energy that will eventually set mankind free from misery and gravity," I'd say his pile shows what happens when a zealous intellect elevates a natural process to unnatural proportions. He turned a beneficial process into a hazard.

The image above is a manipulated Polaroid. See my web site (www.robertkourik.com) for more examples of "Impressionistic Photography".

Let me know what you think.

Visit my web site to learn about my new book on drip irrigation and other gardening books.

NOTE: The comments section at the bottom of the post has disappeared. Click on the "___ Comments" button or the title under the "Blog Archives". Thanks, Robert

Indicating Past Fires

I’m chopping firewood and remembering all the old native Pacific madron trees (Arbutus menziesii) that used to grace pockets of the forest around my house. The trees rarely occur in pure stands. Some had trunks three feet or more in diameter at breast height (DBH). (I don't know who's breast.) Over the past 22 years all but a handful have died a natural death and were resurrected as firewood.

At only 80-100 years, these are so short-lived trees compared to the mixed coastal oak (Quercus agrifolia), Douglas-fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii), tanoak (Lithocarpus densiflorus), the California coast redwood (Sequoia semperviren) – with a DBH of 8-25 feet - and California bay trees (Umbellularia californica) in “my” forest. This is because the madrone, while drought resistant, is a colonizer of fire-scorched earth. They are among some of the first trees to sprout after a fire. It is said the seeds need fire to germinate. (However, most germination in nurseries is done by freezing the seed before planting in flats or tree tubes.) These trees at first grow more rapidly than the Douglas fir trees associated with a more mature forest. They help to stabilize the soil. Eventually the Douglas fir trees grow above the madrones and shade them to death.

To maintain madrone in a mixed Douglas fir, oak, and redwood forest, the tree needs fire. Not a firestorm in the tops of mature trees, but frequent fires about every five to 50 years. Pacific madrone depends, on these periodic fires to eliminate or greatly reduce the beginning of a Douglas fir overstory.

However, the forest here hasn’t burned in over 100 years. (A 1/2-acre fire last week a mere two miles from my house was quickly extinguished. What a close call and a relief!) The amount of “kindling” (dead trees and shrubs as well as the invasion of foreigners along parts of the forest’s edge like Scotch broom (Cytisus scoparius), which act like little balls of standing gasoline because they burn so easily and hot) on the ground is tremendous. When the next fire comes the burning grasses or Scotch broom will leap up the trunks of the trees to form a crown, or canopy, firestorm. Nothing, except the noble redwoods, will be left. Including my house.

This photo is of one of the few Pacific madrone trees left on the property as it snakes toward sunlight from beneath the maturing Douglas fir trees.

Please post a comment - I want to know what you think.

Visit my web site to learn about my new book on drip irrigation and other gardening books.

NOTE: The comments section at the bottom of the post has disappeared. Click on the "___ Comments" button or the title under the "Blog Archives". Thanks, Robert

Nervous in the Forest

It’s going to be 100F or higher with very low humidity for at least two days this week. While other parts of the country don’t find this so unusual. It is not common to this California Coastal guy.

My ears perk up. My nose goes into sensitive mode. My paranoia level rises. And old memories arise.

I when through the 1991 fire in Santa Barbara, California fire; helping a friend evacuate due to impending flames. The sky was filed a strange, beautiful yet evil-colored smoke, as seen in the photo to the left above. The fire raged for days and dozens of homes burned down. People died. The flames raced through dry brush of the chaparral almost faster than a motorcycle cop trying to get away from the roaring flames.

The same year there was a murderous fire in the urban setting of Oakland, California. [The photo on the right.] I photographed the scene after the coals were no longer warm. The amazing lesson to learn was how fickle a firestorm can be. Some houses were burnt to the ground except for the brick chimney, while the house next door was untouched—much like Santa Barbara.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up as the hot winds roll from the inland area towrd the sea, the reverse of the normal movement of air. Where I live, the forest around my wooden house hasn’t burned in over 60 years. I get very edgy and scan the sky for the smoke and fumes I experienced in Santa Barbara. And I lock all my fire safes.

There really are no plants that can withstand a firestorm; except, perhaps, for a well-watered lawn. Some of the houses in Santa Barbara were saved by a short stone fire wall just at the top of the slope surrounding the home and before the flat lawn. The flames raced up the hill like being in a chimney. The wall deflected the flames and what flame or cinders fell on the lawn found things too moist to ignite. The other best defense is to scrap the land to bare soil around the house like the house in the middle photograph. This home is only protected from a grass fire. However, the trees within the bare soil can easily ignite from embers during a firestorm. A friend in Santa Barbara is on the volunteer fire department. He encouraged Joe Cocker to strip all foliage to the ground 60 feet down the hill below the house. The fire burned to the edge of the chaparral and stopped at the bare soil. The house was saved.

I’m surrounded by trees. No hope during a canopy firestorm except to jump the fence and wade into the reservoir lake developed for the vineyard next door. Sit it out and watch everything go up in smoke.

Please post a comment - I want to know what you think.

Visit my web site to learn about my new book on drip irrigation and other gardening books.

NOTE: The comments section at the bottom of the post has disappeared. Click on the "___ Comments" button or the title under the "Blog Archives". Thanks, Robert

Fire - Visible and Invisible

Fire. Essential and dreaded. Fire has historical tendrils back to primeval times when people first discovered how to make fire when needed. Fire also includes the combustion and flames of a gas stove and oven, campfires, propane-fueled lanterns, and barbecue briquettes. All welcomed, desired.

Every garden is always on “fire”—without flames. Combustion is the oxidation of carbon-based materials which usually produces a flame. Garden “fires” are usually invisible, slow, and important. A single teaspoon of soil contains over one million of the soil’s beneficial bacteria alone This does not include: nitrogen-fixing soil algae, microbes, beneficial fungi and many other useful life. Each consumes various life-forms or inert elements and releases very minute amounts of heat into the soil. Like an aerobic workout, soil heats up—only in extremely tiny amounts.

Combustion in the compost bin also is at a lower temperature than a visible fire. Microorganisms feed on the carbohydrates; the carbon. The warmth of a well-made compost pile is tangible garden low-grade combustion. When the first nips of frost arrive, a compost made of fallen leaves, green lawn clippings, manure and kitchen scraps (I send all my kitchen compostables to an earthworm bin.) sends its wisps of warm fog to rise above its mass.

Only the fanatic composter runs the risk of spontaneous combustion. The pile has to be very large. And it rarely bursts into flames, but usually smolders like a coal mine "fire." Tim Dundon aka Zeke the Sheik (the compost king), of Los Angeles County, accumulated a compost pile over 17 years which reached the gargantuan size of 40 feet tall and up to 200 feet long. Twice in one month the pile spontaneously burst into flames and smoke, and the fire department arrived to douse the flames. While Zeke defends composting as "the key of energy that will eventually set mankind free from misery and gravity," I'd say his pile shows what happens when a zealous intellect elevates a natural process to unnatural proportions. He turned a beneficial process into a hazard.

Please post a comment - I want to know what you think.

Visit Robert Kourik's web site to learn about my other gardening books.

NOTE: The comments section at the bottom of the post has disappeared. Click on the "___ Comments" button or the title under the "Blog Archives". Thanks, Robert