Stoking March Fires

This morning as a foot of snow piles up outside, I indulge in one of life's great luxuries -- a morning fire, to be valued doubly, because it'll be one of the last for this winter.

I know many people don't want to bother with wood fires -- hauling logs into the city and in my case, up the back stairs, is a lot of work. The fires themselves don't really provide much heat -- most of that goes up the chimney, while polluting the air and spewing dust into the house. Worse the ashes need to be swept up every couple of weeks.

But I'd never give up my real flames for a gas-powered imitation, even in the city. 

I've found a farm near campus where I can buy a trunk load of split logs. But obtaining enough kindling poses a problem. So I pick up sticks around Capitol Hill. It's added a zest of adventure to errands and makes me feel more self-sufficient, as I follow these instincts to hunt and gather.

When I return from these foraging expeditions, I like to lay the makings for fire right away, so it'll be ready later in the day. I challenge myself to construct a teepee of logs on a bed of kindling that can be light by using only one match. If the wood is good enough and I've used enough skill, a fire can crackle and spurt on its own long enough to last a nap --another winter luxury on a snowday.

A crisis for squirrels

(By Lucinda Fleeson -- Published in the Washington Post, January 17, 2009)

Some call them tree rats. At times the Capitol Hill squirrels are rapacious and naughty, digging up my bulbs and throwing dirt around. I've threatened to shoot them. But their antics of running along the utility wires like tightrope artists, or chasing each other round and round, up and down tree trunks, have endeared them to me. I guess it's not surprising that these medium-sized rodents, in the family Sciuridae, subspecies politico, would be a tad more aggressive; they populate a neighborhood with more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed former student council presidents than any other on the planet.

So when the news emerged that oak trees produced no acorns this year, I worried.

Usually at this time, the squirrels dig holes with great diligence, all over gardens, tucking away acorns by the hordes. None of the forest or wildlife experts offer any reason for the acorn drought. They warn of runty animals and predict that the squirrel population will be decimated, slowly starved. Many might make a case that we actually could do with a population reduction. But a squirrel famine has repercussions all up and down the food chain. Fewer squirrels means fewer prey for hawks and other carnivores. (continued at: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/01/16/AR2009011604506.html)

Winter Gardening

The garden is sleeping now. Snow falls lightly. December nights lengthen