Posts by Arts and Culture El Dorado

The Smoke, the Flame   The wind blew a firestorm Into my house, into my neighbor’s house. It left through the pine trees Dared to return, to burn, to creep   Into my house, my neighbor’s house. The smoke, the flame Dared to return, to burn, to creep Across virgin ground   The smoke, the…

Cuckoo   “Historic Fight” hike three men in forest fire two with shovels, one short-handled, one with pick all thin, long sleeves, suspenders no masks or eye protectors   We keepers of forest and mother nature elemental-destroyers and life-makers scrim red alights on crumpled photo skin these men are ours, CCC Camp kin, a step…

TRAVELLING FIRE/LAND WITH A FOX   Smoke rises, as shadows feed fire. When Kali, Goddess of destruction appears, the sun goes dark.   Trees like fiery pillars reach up to the heavens, and the sky sways with wingspan.   Shadows running, the eagle’s voice a twitter. A gray fox turns himself into smoke to escape…

Lost Time in the Burn Scar   Old fire behaviorist, forester and range manager – teaching how a forest comes back from fire. But unlike the land, you can’t come back. I’m walking below a log deck of burned-dead conifers. I pulled over to see what’s happening, two years after fire that turned the ground…

Nature’s Own Fire-Works   It’s awful – like something from a thriller, a horror movie – but it’s Nature cleaning her house –   awesome – since Time began, an ages-long tradition – but now, on Man-ufactured steroids.   -Taylor Graham Uncontrolled, 2023, Giclée print, Still from the digital video FIRELAND Big Burn

Notes on Revisiting Caldor   23 months after fire: black oak sprouts from a scorched base deerbrush, Sierra milkwort fresh deer prints on old dirt road spotted towhee unseen in the brush dry meadow alive with mullein velvety goldenrod, heart-leaf milkweed among black skeleton conifers, new ponderosa sprouts – too many, too dense for the…

The Burn That Saved Our Landing   Flash-back. The day we drove out Caldor Road where we sometimes trained our search dogs. Forest Service beat us there; you recognized Barry’s rig. What was his crew up to? Maybe your dog could find him —   up a little trail, green forest on the one side,…

Whose Fault? I watched on TV as the land burned.   Ponderosa and incense cedar turned to towering torches in flame-smoke sky. The diggins’ ridge not far from home, where we explored glory holes amid bear clover, and trained our search dogs, and walked for meditation, for grounding….   And here it is, in black-gray-crimson…