Smother: poems on fire and family

Smother, a collection of poems, by Rachel Richardson
Smother, a collection of poems, by Rachel Richardson
Smother, a collection of poems, by Rachel Richardson

Wildfires and poetry are not strangers in the publishing world but with Smother, poet Rachel Richardson has added a new element by combining her views on the challenging nature of wildfires with those of raising children.

How do we become good parents in a world that is struggling to find new ways of surviving regular, large, threatening fires?

Richardson is the co-founder of Left Margin LIT, a literary arts center in Berkeley, California. In 2024 she was named an inaugural Artists-in-Fire Resident through the Confluence Lab and is now trained as an FFT2 wildland firefighter. She lives in Berkeley, half a mile from where she was born.

Wildfire Today invited her to tell us more about her inspirations for Smother, a collection of poems on wildfire, children, climate change, landscape, friends, family, rage, sorrow and more.

What inspired you to write these poems during these difficult times with wildfire?

I began writing a book about living in California, and in the Bay Area specifically, in 2017. The first things I found myself writing about were technological, actually – the way technology is changing the way we interact with each other and with nature. I’m a parent, and I saw it strongly in the experience my daughters were having growing up compared to the experiences I had had in the 80s and 90s.

But in 2017 we also started feeling major effects of the record-breaking fires that were burning in California – smoke and air pollution at levels that were new and startling. I didn’t intend to write about fire, but since I try to be receptive to the world when I write, smoke kept finding its way into my poems.

Then when Covid hit, in 2020, combined with the record-breaking Lightning Complex fires and Creek fire (together burning about 4 million acres in California) that summer, all my themes converged. It felt like the massive out-of-control burning symbolized a fundamental shift in our sense of what childhood could be, and how we could imagine a future in California. That was when I began to understand that my book was fundamentally about these two elements, fire and parenting.

What did your training as a firefighter add to your work?

Thinking about the devastation of those fires was pretty bleak, so I began to seek out more information about the causes of wildfire, hoping to change my fear of them into something more productive. I wanted to have an answer for my children about how we could live in harmony with our landscape, and I wanted to feel less terrorized by the prospect of fires’ destruction.

I enrolled in FFT2 training to learn more of the science and social components of wildfire. Then I participated in several prescribed burns with community organizations in Yolo and Trinity Counties. These experiences of making community with others interested in fire, and of burning to improve the ecology of the landscape, made me feel I could be part of the solution. Fire was not just something humans could control and direct, but it was a necessary force in the Western landscape, and a tool that could be used to benefit the land.

I am not sure what I’ll write next, but this work will have a big impact on it.

What do you know now about wildfire that you didn’t before you started writing these poems?

Fire is powerful, but not always to be feared. I am much more in awe of fire as a force in the Western landscape, and I am more motivated to find ways for humans to live better in our fire-adapted ecosystem. We can steward the land into a much more resilient state if we get right with our relationship to fire.

Smother, a collection of poems, by Rachel Richardson
Smother, a collection of poems, by Rachel Richardson

Rachel Richardson is the author of three books of poetry, Smother (W. W. Norton & Co., 2025), and Hundred-Year Wave (2016) and Copperhead (2011). Her poetry and prose have been published in The New York Times, The Atlantic, The Yale Review, American Poetry Review, Kenyon Review Online, at the Poetry Foundation, on The Slowdown, and elsewhere.

Rachel received an MFA in Poetry from the University of Michigan. She also holds an MA in Folklore from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and a BA in English from Dartmouth College. She has taught at UNC-Chapel Hill, Stanford, University of San Francisco, and, most recently, as Distinguished Visiting Writer at St. Mary’s College of California in the MFA Program in Creative Writing.

Following are two exerts are from Smother:

AFTER FIRE

[This poem is about a tree-planting event at Berkeley’s Tuolumne Camp, a public family wilderness camp near Yosemite that burned in the 2013 Rim Fire.]

 The kids cradled baby trees

in their arms – plastic conical pots

with the starts of incense cedars

and ponderosas sprouting upward –

tiny shivers of needles

spurting from thin beginnings

of branch – and we trudged

up the hillside with paper packets

of nutrients, tree tea, stuffed

in our jeans pockets, to toss

into the planting holes. The rains

were coming. Everything felt lucky.

THE “I WANT” SONG

But there’s so much that I want –

for the trees not to burn, or at least

not these trees, not unless they’re far away or

beneficial to the understory. I want to stop

feeling like I’d better buy the fruit

now because maybe next year there will be

no more fruit, no more water, maybe the crops will burn

or wither or be sprayed with the chemical that kills

the bees and which studies now show

kills the bees’ children and children’s children

two bee-generations after exposure.

I want not to think about the expiration of the world.

Click here for more on Smother and Rachel Richardson and to purchase click here.

Pilot, author, publisher: Patricia Osborn

General Aviation News recently reported that Montana pilot and author Patricia Osborn has published an aerial firefighting storybook for kids, The Fire Truck That Could Fly, illustrated by Eric Castleman. The children’s story follows a crew of firefighters aboard a Chinook helicopter as they combat a remote mountain forest fire.

Pilot Patricia Osborn has released her new children’s book, “The Fire Truck That Could Fly,” with illustrations by Eric Castleman.

Osborn is a Montana-based pilot who founded Huey’s Books with a mission to share stories that educate and inspire. A veteran-owned company, Huey’s Books publishes children’s books about military aviation.

“Our mission is to use children’s books to educate kids and adults about aviation and how military aircraft perform some amazing missions,” said Osborn.

Pilot and author Patricia Osborn
Patricia Osborn, the author and a veteran pilot, founded Huey’s Books with a mission to share engaging stories that educate and inspire.

 

 

 

 

 

Huey’s Books in August partnered with Sweetgrass Books to help with printing, distribution, and marketing. “With Sweetgrass Books’ help,” said Osborn, “we hope to be available in more stores and libraries.” The book isn’t yet listed on amazon, but stay tuned.

The Fire Truck That Could Fly is reportedly a tribute to the Army National Guard’s work stateside; the book is 8.5 x 8.5 inches, 32 pages in hardcover for $15.95. Eric Castleman’s work illustrates the work of the helicopter crew and the intensity of the wildfire, according to the publisher, and the book’s available in hardcover online at farcountrypress.com or from Sweetgrass Books.

Do let us know if you’ve read this or wish to submit a review.

New book of nighttime fire photography

book Terra FlammaTERRA FLAMMA
Wildfires at Night
by Stuart Palley
176 pages, Schiffer Publishing
$25.85 at Amazon

Fires can be deadly, but they can also be beautiful. Most of us have spent time staring at a campfire or fireplace. It can be mesmerizing on a small scale, but when you see hundreds of acres being consumed by flames, it can be hard to turn away.

Television news might cover wildfires even less than they already do if the images were not so fascinating.

Flickering flames on a landscape at night can be captivating. A well-know wildfire photographer has made it an area of special interest during the last five years. After most fire photographers spent hours getting shots of fires during daylight hours and went home to rest, re-hydrate, and edit photos, Stuart Palley would often take advantage of the very special lighting, set up his tripod, and take multi-second exposures keeping the shutter open long enough for the dim light to be captured on the camera’s sensor.

He writes about it in his book that was just released, Terra Flamma; Wildfires at Night:

Soon I found the night shots more interesting than the day. As the painter Vincent Van Gogh said, “I often find that the night is more colorful than the day”.

book Terra FlammaThe book is a compilation of 110 color photographs of 39 wildfires shot at night in California over the past 5 fire seasons, including the Rim, Rough, and Thomas Fires. There is also an introductory section about his background, on photographing the fires, and his experience at the incidents in addition to statistics about each wildfire.

Terra Flamma, Mr. Palley explains, is a rough Latin translation for “earth on fire”.  I am not a fan of using words from a foreign language in a motto, company name, or book title. If people reading it don’t speak that language, the words can be meaningless.

I took these three photos of the book cover and some of the pages within, but they do not do justice to the excellent photos and the beautifully printed pages. I didn’t even snap pictures of his best images, not wanting to spoil the pleasure of someone opening the book for the first time.

Too often we see photos that firefighters take at fires that have been tweaked and manipulated within an inch of the pictures’ lives, cranking up the intensity, screwing with the color saturation, adding Instagram filters, or merging three or more photos into one with high dynamic range. Or worse, using the camera’s software to manipulate just one image into what the vendor calls high dynamic range. These can become extremely unrealistic. I have fallen into that trap once or twice, making one very little post production “enhancement” that’s barely noticeable, then one more, and another. Then when done, I have compared the tweaked version to the original and see that they are very dissimilar, and may tell a different story. That’s when I start over.

But Mr. Palley explains that he used “minimal enhancement, with the goal to reproduce what I saw at the fire”.

And it works. His experience as a journalist, news photographer, his masters degree in photojournalism, and years spent chasing wildfires all over California can be seen on the 176 pages.

book Terra Flamma
The cover of Terra Flamma

The Back Story: Development of the “River of Fire” book

Earlier we wrote a review of John N. Maclean’s book that he officially released today, River of Fire: The Rattlesnake Fire and the Mission Boys. It covers the 15 fatalities that occurred July 9, 1953 on the Rattlesnake Fire on the Mendocino National Forest in northern California. Of those, 14 were members of the New Tribes Mission based at a nearby forest camp at Fouts Springs. Known to the locals as missionaries, the religious group often mobilized firefighters from their ranks when fires were burning in the area. The 15th person killed was a Forest Service employee who had volunteered to carry suppers down to the missionaries, who were working on a spot fire below in a drainage where they could not be seen by the other men on the fire. And the missionaries could not see the rest of the fire.

RIVER OF FIRE by John N. Maclean
RIVER OF FIRE by John N. Maclean

Before we had a chance to read the entire book, we asked photographer Kari Greer about her experience in creating the images. We also asked Mr. Maclean some questions about the book and how it was different from Fire and Ashes published 15 years ago.

Their emailed responses are below —
from Ms. Greer:  Maclean’s objective in having me photograph for River of Fire, in my mind was to personalize the events of the Rattlesnake Fire in 1953 for a current audience, to make it visceral and logical. Since it happened so long ago it’s easy to perceive the legend with remote nostalgia. It’s an innocuous-seeming minor drainage and that’s where the warning lies. The chaparral fuel type and the now well-worn route of the race with fire (and subsequent recovery road) are cautionary for any slope at risk for sundowner winds.

I think a visual tour helps the mind process what to look for in other similar scenarios. The lessons are there and Don Will, Daren Dalrymple, Jon Tishner, and Jim Barry have kept the hallowed site a laboratory for further introspection and reverence. It’s a heavy place loaded with ghosts who have something to teach us. Their help on-site was invaluable; I could not have seen the nuances without their expertise.

from Mr. Maclean:  River of Fire has a very different theme from my first account of the Rattlesnake Fire, published in 2003 in Fire and Ashes. That version included the first extended account of the motives of the arsonist, Stan Pattan, a re-creation of the final race with fire by more than 30 firefighters — the first semi-formal “staff ride” at the site — and a detailed check of the credibility of the fire report — and it passed. River of Fire updates all of those, but its theme looks to the future: Passing It On.

In the years since Fire and Ashes first appeared, the site of the Rattlesnake Fire has been recovered, the old firelines opened, and an explanatory memorial installed. Its lessons are passed on to new generations of firefighters and others. These days hundreds of firefighters go there every year as part of a formal staff ride. Families of the fallen have visited the site and reconnected to lost parents, friends, and their own pasts. As stories of these encounters came my way over the years I added them to the story — sometimes I wouldn’t touch the manuscript for a couple of years; other times I spent weeks in research and writing. One sad effect of the passage of time has been the loss of living memory, as participants and witnesses came to the ends of their lives, sometimes only a few days after talking to me. Earlier this year I looked at the manuscript and realized it had grown enough in bulk and scope to justify an update. Once Kelly Andersson, my longtime editor, and I started to pull it together this spring it became clear the Rattlesnake Fire had turned into a living event, its lessons now bright and alive to a new generation of firefighters. The contrast with what I had found two decades ago — a forgotten, overgrown canyon site fading into history — was extreme.

River of Fire quickly turned into a community project, a telling of the tale through the eyes of people who have lived for decades with the effects of the fire. Three past superintendents of the Mendocino Hotshots – Don Will, Daren Dalrymple, and Jon Tishner, keepers of the flame – helped enormously, and many others willingly told their stories. River of Fire contains almost everything that was in the old version: a precise account of what happened July 9, 1953, and the immediate aftermath. But as Will points out in his foreword, the Rattlesnake Fire has become a story of resurrection.

River of Fire would not have happened without the sustained enthusiasm of Andersson, who once lived in Willows herself, frequented Nancy’s Café, and knew some of these people. Andersson kept after me for years until I agreed had the material for a new book. She then brought on Kari Greer, whose photos kindle the new reality crackling to life. She also worked with the hotshot superintendents; with Chris Cuoco, the South Canyon meteorologist, who provided insight into the weather events of that day in 1953; Jim Barry, and other contributors. She edited and designed the book in both paperback and kindle, and published them both to amazon. The result is a deeper examination of a once nearly forgotten story, restored by a community to its rightful place as a landmark in the history of wildland fire.

John N. Maclean releases new book about the Rattlesnake Fire

When I worked at Log Springs in 1968 on the Mendocino National Forest in northern California, I don’t remember much discussion about the catastrophe that killed 15 wildland firefighters only a couple dozen miles away 15 years before. The Rattlesnake Fire was not a huge campaign fire that blackened tens of thousands of acres and took weeks to contain. It burned about 1,300 acres and was declared under control roughly 40 hours after Stan Pattan threw the match out the window of his green Buick on July 9, 1953.

All but one of the firefighters who perished that day were affiliated with the New Tribes Mission based at a nearby facility at Fouts Springs. Known to the locals as missionaries, they often mobilized as needed when fires were burning in the area. Some had taken fire training and others had none. The 15th person killed was a Forest Service employee who had volunteered to carry suppers down to the missionaries who were working on a spot fire at night down in a drainage — where they could not be seen by the other men on the fire — and the missionaries could not see the rest of the fire either.

river of fire by john macleanJohn N. Maclean, an author well known in wildland fire circles for his previous work, has released a new book about the Rattlesnake Fire:  River of Fire: The Rattlesnake Fire and the Mission Boys. The official release is today, June 23 at the 75th Region 4 Smokejumper Reunion in McCall, Idaho.

The book builds on the previous story about the fire that Maclean included in his Fire and Ashes book published in 2003 — which also included sections about three other wildland fire topics. The new book adds more details and includes information from, and sections written by, firefighters who have recently worked in the area, including three past superintendents of the Mendocino Hotshots. There are also new photos by Kari Greer, a photographer who specializes in wildland fire.

Maclean told us that one of the themes of this book is “Passing It On,” which is the title of the foreword written in May 2018 by Don Will, who was superintendent of the Mendocino Hotshots from 1988 to 1994. The book explains that the Mendocino Hotshots were for years the unofficial caretakers of the tragedy site.

“I knew there had to be people like her out there,” Dalrymple said.

River of Fire has a number of very compelling stories scattered throughout. For example, it describes the process of developing the first airtanker that could drop water on a fire: In the early 1950s there were attempts at designing an apparatus that could drop water from an airplane, but everything was crude and not very effective. Two years after the fire, though, in 1955 Joe Ely, the fire control officer on the Mendocino who had helped  fight the Rattlesnake Fire, worked with a cropduster pilot named Vance Nolta — who designed a tank with a gate and a dump valve that could be operated from the cockpit. A test of the system (on a fire that was intentionally ignited along a runway at the Willows airport) was a success.

Later that year the new prototype airtanker was first used on a fire near Covelo on the Mendocino National Forest.

In this book is also a touching story about a young child who lived at the Fouts Springs missionary camp when the fire started in 1953. Her father was killed in the fire, and as she grew up her mother did not talk about him or how he had died. But in 2010 she found information about the tragedy online — and decided she had to find out more. After driving eight hours south from Oregon, she contacted the Forest Supervisor’s office in Willows and asked for directions. Here is an excerpt from one of the later sections of the book, in which she tells about family members meeting up with Daren Dalrymple and Jon Tishner:

… Instead, they acquired two eager tour guides, the former and current hotshot superintendents Dalrymple and Tishner, who volunteered to take them to the site and show them around. “I knew there had to be people like her out there,” Dalrymple said. “It was the best day on the hill I’ve ever had.”

The 1953 tragedy contributed directly to the 1957 development of the 10 Standard Firefighting Orders — and changes in wildland fire training, safety standards, and awareness of weather and fire behavior.

memorial 1953 Rattlesnake Fire
Part of the memorial at the site of the 1953 Rattlesnake Fire. Larry Cregger photo, 2005.

For decades there was not much at the site to identify it or interpret what had happened on that fateful day. In 1993 a plaque was installed with the names of the firefighters who had perished there, and in 2005 a new interpretive and training site overlooking the area in Grindstone Canyon was built on the old Alder Springs Road. It features exhibits describing the events that day in 1953, and trails on the site lead visitors along the desperate escape routes followed by those 15 firefighters.

The development of the memorial and the maintenance of the trails and the original firelines and dozer lines help support the numerous visits and staff rides each year. Passing on the lessons learned to new generations of firefighters can help build up their knowledge base about fire behavior and weather — and may keep them from repeating some of the unfortunate decisions that led to the deaths of 14 missionaries and one agency employee back in 1953.

There are, of course, other wildfires in which large numbers of wildland firefighters died — the 1910 fires (85 killed), the Griffith Park Fire in 1933 in a Los Angeles city park (29, most were not firefighters but were pulled from other tasks to work on the fire), the Blackwater Fire of 1937 (15), Mann Gulch of 1949 (13), Inaja in 1956 (11), South Canyon Fire of 1994 (14), and the 2013 Yarnell Hill Fire (19).

We asked Maclean for permission to use an excerpt from the book (longer than the brief one here), and this is what he sent us:

During the photo shoot for this book this spring, Kari Greer, photographer, and Daren Dalrymple, former Mendocino hotshot superintendent, ran into two young men, a former firefighter and a hopeful one, hiking the firelines at the site.

“When Daren and I were up there,” said Greer, “these two guys drove up and chatted with us briefly when we were shooting near the Gillaspy ranch. They said they were headed for the Rattlesnake site, and they proceeded on to the overlook. They must have stopped there, paid respects and read about the fire, and then walked around a bit from there.”

She said the two continued all the way up to Powderhouse Turn, while she and Dalrymple stayed at the overlook wrapping up the photo shoot. They watched as the two hikers made their way along the stand trails and the staff ride locations, spotting the two men now and then through the brush and across the canyon on the north slope.

“It was interesting to see it to scale,” said Greer, “the size of the guys hiking in the chaparral and their pace as they traversed the landscape. They did the entire thing, even going down to Cecil Hitchcock’s cross at the bottom and clear up to Stanley Vote’s cross at the top. This showed us that they knew the history and were doing the full experience.

“Daren and I made our way up to Powderhouse Turn, and we caught up with them as they were hiking out, coming up the Access Route that goes downhill to the Missionary Spot Fire. We talked a bit more with the two of them and learned that José Gonzalez was here being mentored by Daniel Hartrum, who is a former firefighter, now a teacher. José was working hard; he was wearing a Pack Test Vest and carrying a tool. They told us he was hoping to get hired onto a crew and Daniel was giving him some field experience at the site.”

The book is very well written and edited, as usual for a John N. Maclean product. As mentioned above, much of the content is from the Fire and Ashes book published 15 years ago, but there is a good deal of new text and updated information covering what has transpired in the intervening years. The contributions by the three hotshot superintendents are especially valuable. I recommend this book for Students of Fire and all wildland firefighters for the lessons that can be learned, especially if they have not read the Fire and Ashes book. It would be a good reading assignment before participating in a staff ride at the site.

The black and white photos are helpful to figure out the context and geography. The kindle version of the book expected later this summer or autumn will have Kari’s photos in all their glorious color. It will be available for both Amazon kindle and Apple products.

Related: read “The Back Story: The Development of the River of Fire book.”

The video below, uploaded to YouTube in 2017, shows the memorial site and some of the crosses marking the locations where the firefighters lost their lives.

Other books by John N. Maclean: The Thirtymile Fire, Fire and Ashes, Fire on the Mountain, and The Esperanza Fire.

Owner of ranch that was thought to be safety zone at Yarnell Hill Fire writes book

It is believed by many that the 19 members of the Granite Mountain Hot Shots that died in Arizona on the Yarnell Hill Fire in 2013 were hiking to a private ranch near the fire, which was thought to be a bomb-proof safety zone. While still hundreds of yards away, they were overrun by the rapidly spreading fire pushed by shifting outflow winds from a thunderstorm.

One of the owners of the ranch, DJ Helm, has written a book about their experiences before, during and after the fire. Below is an excerpt from the book, Fire on the Wind, published with permission.

We didn’t know it was coming, that fire on the wind, but we did know it was blazing out of control way over to the north of us along the base of the distant mountains. I had gone to our front window to check its progress just before we sat down for lunch on that unusually hot Sunday afternoon of June 30, 2013.

We weren’t overly concerned about it as we watched the aerial attacks of water and crimson retardant being dumped in that area. The fire was definitely burning away from us and looked as if it had burned itself out on the mountainous state land to the northwest of our house where it started.Fire On The Wind book yarnell hill fire

I had so looked forward to our three-day Grand Canyon vacation that began Thursday, June 27, 2013. Then right in the middle of it came the phone call. It was early Friday evening, June 28th, and there was smoke on the mountain above our house. The neighbor who called said it was caused by lightning from thunderstorms booming in the skies over Yarnell and Glen Ilah.

Lightning struck on the tallest mountain’s ridge near time-sculpted boulders barely visible above thick native vegetation. Having been deprived of adequate rain for several years it was bone-dry, a volatile wildfire-prone condition. Local fire departments began receiving a flood of calls from those who saw the first smoke. Everyone within the comfortable circle was confident the problem would be taken care of as they continued to go about their daily routines for the next two days.

Judging by first impressions, an aerial report noted it was just a couple of acres of brush burning among a pile of rocks up there; not much of a threat. The rough terrain would be accessible by helicopter only and darkness was setting in; there would be no action taken at that time. It was the beginning of the Yarnell Hill Fire—and we weren’t home.

Sunday afternoon, June 30th, we were back home, and shortly after 4:00 pm the unimaginable happened. Firefighters and residents alike were caught off guard when the northbound fire was clutched by a ferocious storm brandishing strong southbound winds, suddenly turning it around, driving it in this direction. Pushing forward at a speed many firefighters had never experienced, there was no chance of stopping the powerful epic phenomenon. The wind-driven torch swathed across boulder-strewn valleys and over mountains heading toward our communities and the Granite Mountain Interagency Hotshots, trapping them in a flat-bottomed, three-sided box canyon.

In a flash, smoke and flames engulfed the neighborhoods, causing unprepared occupants to flee the fast-approaching wall of fire. Leaving everything behind except a few personal items grabbed in haste, desperate residents were forced to evacuate as the blaze chased them out. Driving through blinding smoke along twisting narrow streets, crawling bumper-to-bumper away from the advancing inferno, a steady stream of traffic surged onto State Route 89. With the Sheriff’s Department’s assistance and neighbors helping neighbors, everyone made it out safely. Everyone but 19 of the Hotshots.

By happenstance we were most likely the first civilians to be made aware of the 19 young men’s deaths. One of the other firefighters told me about the tragedy later after several of them hiked down here from the fatality site. I was standing by the house, staring in disbelief at the devastation surrounding us in every direction, when he walked up behind me. He wanted to know how to get back in here so they could recover the Hotshots’ bodies from the side of the mountain.

The unrestrained Yarnell Hill Fire became one of the deadliest in U.S. history, swiftly taking thousands of acres that Sunday afternoon. Desecrating the pristine high-desert countryside, it left naked, blackened boulders behind as well as 127 burned-out homes in Yarnell and Glen Ilah. Several buildings on a ranch in Peeples Valley were also burned. Amazingly, though it was harrowingly close for so many of them, no civilians were lost.

Tragically, 19 of the 20 Granite Mountain Hotshots’ lives were cruelly taken. They had descended from the mountain top and perished in a box canyon one-third of a mile from our home and about a mile southeast of where the lightning had started the fire. Before long the fatality site was enclosed within a chain-link fence. Outside the fenced area to the north a flagpole was erected, which began flying American and Arizona flags.

This book is about our personal experience with the Yarnell Hill Fire and the first hectic weeks that turned into months—now years—as fire officials, police, forest service investigators, government officials, and family members—by this time well over two thousand people—have come up our driveway, through our property, and over the newly-cut bulldozer line to the site.

Fire on the Wind is available from Amazon in full color with 100 color images, and in black and white.

Book: Norwegian Wood

Norwegian WoodMany wildland firefighters live in areas where firewood is available, as long as you have a permit and know how to use a chain saw. The Guardian has an interesting review of a new book about a very old subject, collecting and processing your own firewood.

Below is an excerpt from a review of Norwegian Wood: Chopping, Stacking, and Drying Wood the Scandinavian Way by by Lars Mytting.

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“…Now, at last, wood is being rehabilitated. More than that: it is suddenly fashionable, and Norwegian Wood has become one of the most uplifting publishing stories of 2015. A simple, elegant book about how to fell trees – about how to move the timber and then split and stack the logs in the most efficient, aesthetic ways – it has already sold hundreds of thousands of copies. It is one of those books, full of lush, earthy photos, about which people seem to become almost evangelical.

The reason for its appeal is clear: in this depressing age of bombs and bullets, of financial instability and screen-mediated reality, there is something honest, solid and reassuringly ancient about wood. As Lars Mytting says about the woodpile: “Its share price doesn’t fall on the stock market. It won’t rust. It won’t sue for divorce. It just stands there and does one thing: it waits for winter. An investment account reminding you of all the hard work you’ve put into it.”

It helps that Mytting is able to put primitive yearnings into lyrical prose. He quotes beautiful poems, like one at the beginning of the book by Hans Børli: “The scent of fresh white wood / in the spring sap time: / as though life itself walked by you, / with dew in its hair.” And the fact that he is Norwegian gives him much authority and many anecdotes: in Norway, 25% of energy used to heat private homes comes from wood, and half of that wood is chopped by private individuals. It is a country obsessed by all aspects of firewood, and, as Mytting jokes, many weddings and funerals have seen heated arguments about the best make of axe, or whether wood should be stacked bark up or bark down…”

National Geographic interviews Stephen Pyne about pyrophobia

Michelle Nijhuis interviewed Stephen Pyne about wildland fire management in the United States and his book that was recently released. Below is an excerpt from the article in National Geographic in which the term “pyrophobia” is used.

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…In his new book Between Two Fires, Pyne examines the roots of the U.S. wildfire crisis. He finds that while the Forest Service and other agencies have long recognized that frequent, relatively small fires can reduce the risk of large, catastrophic burns, they have been unable to restore a natural cycle of fire to the forest.

Speaking from his home office in Arizona, Pyne reflected on this impasse. “If we keep fighting a war with fire, three things are going to happen,” he says. “We’re going to spend a lot of money, we’re going to take a lot of casualties, and we’re going to lose.”

Question: In the first half of the 20th century, you write, the U.S. Forest Service suffered from “pyrophobia”—it tried to suppress all wildfires. Where did that policy come from?

Pyne: The science of forestry grew up in temperate Europe—France and Germany particularly—and there, unlike most parts of the world, there’s no natural basis for fire. Fire was seen as a human problem, caused by people, and that attitude was exported to foresters in the United States.

In 1910, when the Forest Service was just a fledgling agency, a fire called the Big Blowup, or the Big Burn, blew over the Northern Rockies. It burned more than three million acres, and killed 78 firefighters in one afternoon. It traumatized the agency, scarring a whole generation of personnel. The Forest Service became convinced that if only it had the resources, it could control all fires…

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Last week at Wildfire Today we had an excerpt from the book, Between Two Fires.