After the fire

 The foresters had set fire to the prairie just southeast of the South River. In early February, the tall grasses, including bushy bluestem, were shoulder high and brown.

This time, the earth was covered in short grasses that were as green as Ireland. The 12-foot pine saplings that had encroached into the prairie were crispy.

The foresters who manage the land around Panola Mountain State Park believe in “controlled burns.” The phrase is in quotation marks only because as a reporter I witnessed several bad fires that were set with good intentions.

What people call “prairie” in Georgia isn’t what people who live west of the Mississippi have in mind. People who live on the Great Plains talk about prairies as if they were limitless. The prairie near the South River might cover 15 acres.

It’s smaller than the grasslands I grew up with, but I can see the same tension between prairie and forest — grasses and trees. Fire is part of nature. The prairie expands into the forest after a fire. Without fire, the trees encroach into the prairie.

Since the month is almost gone, I should note that the dogwoods are blooming. Wysteria started earlier. I’ve also seen some silverbells, in genus Halesia.

Among the wildflowers, buttercups, violets and periwinkles are blooming.

It’s also the time for dewberry blossoms. The woods are full of them.