This morning, online, there was a RED FLAG WARNING about burning today. Burning in rural Kansas in March is a common annual event. Thousands and thousands of acres of grassland are burned off each spring. It's smelly, it's an irritant to eyes and lungs, and yet, it maintains our prairies and keeps them free of noxious weeds and cedar trees and all things bad for tall grass prairie land and grazing pastures.
Here's a photo of some burning. We see this sort of thing every day and night here in rural Kansas:
And, happily, here is what we enjoy later in our summer months:
Not only are we in burn season, but also in deer season - and I don't mean hunting. The deer are out in droves right now. While this sounds pretty and pastoral (and it is), it is also a danger to any driver in the early morning or the late evening.
Case in point:
Monday evening that Spouse o' Mine had a church meeting which extended into the mid-evening (read: dark) hours. I had prepared a dandy meal (rack of lamb!), and he still was not home. In that the evening was unseasonably balmy, I thought to set the table outdoors, and got the candles out, and lit them. Yes - this is a common dining experience for us, no: it was not an odd romantic whim of mine; if it's warm, we eat al fresco, and usually we at after the sun has set.
So finally that Spouse o' Mine arrives home, only to announce, "I hit a deer." (I shall have to look up my earlier post regarding the rhyme of deer and beer...I think it was pretty funny.)
I queried, "Oh, was it bad?" and he replied, "Not so bad." and I said, "Let me call the sheriff to come make a report."
And so I did.
In that this was the 4th or 5th deer that someone in our family (Post note: It was the 4th - the 5th, 6th, and 7th were bovine), I was a cool cucumber in getting the sheriff's deputy to head on out to our place. And in the meantime, that Spouse o' Mine and I sat down for candlelight dinner. (It really is a pleasant way to end a day, and so few couples take the time and attention; it is so simple.)
So the deputy hauls into our driveway like a house afire as we are supping, and that Spouse o' Mine leaves the table for a moment or two to chat with the deputy, and then returns. I am guessing that the deputy does not know what to make of us, after 8:30 in the evening, eating outdoors by candlelight.
And so here is March in rural Kansas. Fires, dead deer, and candlelight dinners.
C'est très romantique.