Smoldering Earth

 
Meanook still smells of smoke from the fire that decimated the lab building.  Rubble is piled high and bits and pieces of our past field work poke out of the ash and blackened bits of twisted debris.  Cinder blocks are scattered around the periphery and if you look closely, you can still find decapitated scales, melted volumetrics, and sample bottles filled with tainted bog water.  Burned and dented freezers, drying ovens, and water systems are sunk like monoliths in the pile of deranged metal.   Many items are still identifiable and yet completely ruined and that just makes it worse.  It is not just a pile of burned unidentifiable mess of destruction.  It is Our mess of destruction and it is sad to see.

After about 30 minutes of poking around, I needed to find something of beauty to hold onto and if you look closely, beauty is there hiding in color and texture...  

It turns out that there was a reason it still smells of smoke: the berm of earth between the debris and the woods remained silently secretly smoldering now for two weeks post fire.  The electric company came today to restore our power, and in putting in a new pole, found smoking earth when they dug their hole.  Katy and I became temporary fire-fighters with a small hose and an enthusiasm for fire containment.  The Colinton volunteer fire department soon relieved us and took a shovel and hose to the hillside to finished her off.  Hopefully, we are now fully fire-free and smoke-free and with electricity as an added bonus.  It is nice to be rid of the constant yell of the generator reminding us of the piles in the parking lot.

Hopefully, they will rebuild, and in the spring, we will have a new space in which to work, but for now... the piles of depressing rubble remain.

Thanksgiving Canada-Style: Boreal Center and Field Work

This post was written on Thanksgiving, but due to lack of internet and then a modicum of work, I have delayed my posting and it is now 2 days After Thanksgiving, but you get the idea!  Back at Meanook, there are more stories to tell after this....

October 10, 2011.  I am basking in the most unexpected sort of happiness.  After a long day in a burned bog, repeatedly trudging back and forth with 4 gallons of water strapped to each of our backs, field work is done for the day, and we have arrived at the Boreal Center for Bird Conservation on the north-eastern shore of Lesser Slave Lake.  It hit 25 F on our truck thermometer this morning, but thankfully warmed up to the mid-50’s by the time we left the site.  Heavy frost gave the appearance of snow before the sun rose to warm it.  It was a great day for field work and we made the best of it - foraying to contented productivity with sooty faces and sore muscles.  The sun is shining, the aspens are strikingly golden against the blue sky, the breeze is brisk, and it is the best fall can offer.  The three of us have ‘The Nest’ to ourselves and it is beautiful here.

The Nest at the BCBC

The Boreal Center is located just north of the town of Slave Lake and it is a quick walk to a sandy, rocky beach along a grassy path.  Dark clouds are on the horizon, but for now, the sun shines and the leaves dance in the trees, reflect the low angled sun, and spill out that unique fall smell that I wish someone would figure out how to bottle.  Freshly fallen leaves and a crispness in the air make me long for slow cooked stews and fresh bread from the oven.  Today is Thanksgiving in Canada and we plan to have Thai in town – but we certainly give thanks for the beautiful day we had and the awesome accommodations in which we currently reside.

Lesser Slave Lake (nothing Lesser about it)

The common space in the Nest consists of a large open room with windows facing the lake and woods.  A fireplace is the nexus, and is built of smooth light colored lake-rolled igneous stones and an earthy tan mortar.  It is flanked by windows a floor and a half high.  Everything is clean and fresh and inviting and each of us has found a quiet happy spot of our own to relax into.  The kitchen is open to this Great Room, looks out to the fireplace and to the windows and a view of the lake through the trees, and hugs the bathrooms that join the two arms of bedrooms that extend out from the hub.  It is a very friendly space.  A fire and wine will be had tonight as the inclement weather blows in from the west.

We are here on our last trip of the year to Utikuma bog, and it is recovering rapidly from the fire.  Mosses are returning and thriving.  Cranberries populate the hummocks.  Labrador tea and Leather Leaf shade low-lying cloudberries and lichens.  Life returns, and it is terribly good to see.  After so much fire destruction this summer and fall, to be reminded that life does go on and new beginnings sprout with tenacity, is a very good thing, indeed. 

We are more than happy to be spending Thanksgiving, in any fashion, here at the Boreal Center in such a fall.  It truly is something to appreciate.