5:58 AM. We spread close to 3 pounds of little bluestem seed on the burnt ground of the front meadow last evening. In the burned area we could see the open spots where no plants grow. We could also see ant hills. There's a lot of them. With the seed I was spreading I made sure to broadcast it on them hoping the excavated sandy soil increases the chances of germination. I wish that we would've been doing this every spring since we let the front lawn go wild. We didn't make establishing warm and cold season grasses and sedges a priority. So forbs, like showy golden rod got aggressive and took over areas. So it just makes more work. Anyway, I thought this was noteworthy. Anything to bring more biological diversity to a piece of ground is noteworthy to me. Off to do a Friday on the mail trail. 📬 Fire 183 3.4.25

5:45 AM. Good morning! Fire 181 4.2.25

5:43 AM. Good morning. 🔥 Fire 179 3.31.25

It's 7:36 AM. Everyone still asleep. A day off from delivering mail. In here the fire burns bright and hot. Out there there's a frozen crust of sleet/snow mix covering everything. I stepped out at 5 AM. and was able to walk on top of it. The indoor/outdoor thermometer reads 32 degrees. The other day Hayden and I heard a woodcock calling in the evening. It was just before dark. I was listening to A Sand County Almanac, by Aldo Leopold earlier in the day on the mail route. He wrote beautifully about the courting rituals of the woodcock. I had to shut the book off when he wrote about the "Good Oak" though. At that moment it was too much to be reminded of how destructive we have been to the nonhuman world. I eventually turned it back on and finished a few more chapters. This is rare for me. I have been reading about this culture's destructiveness for decades and have been able to stomach it. Something about this time though... The next day on the mail route, I pulled over and did a google search. I get out on the route, get settled in, get in a zone, and my mind starts to wander. With the possibility of time off in the future looking more certain I started thinking about traveling. The first thing that came to mind was the Schulenberg Prairie. I hear Roy Diblik, a master grower/gardner from southern Wisconsin talk about it a lot in his videos. So I was curious. The first thing I learned was this: "One of the nation’s oldest and most successful prairie and savanna restorations is a thriving habitat and a place of beauty." That's all I needed to know. 30 seconds later I was back on the route delivering mail. A place I want to visit in the future for sure. That's all I got to say right now. I hope you have a wonderful Sunday. Fire 178 3.30.25

'if we cannot tell a story about what happened to us, nothing has happened to us." -- James Carse Something I find interesting: I can tell you the month and year I bought into the Bitcoin network . . . July of 2022. It ranks up there with other memorable moments in my life. The day I got married, the birth of my children, the day my dad died, etc. They're moments I can tell you what the weather was like, what I was feeling, who was present, etc. I can tell you a story. Something BIG happened. #Bitcoin

We burned grass again last night. It was the ditch along County E. It is now burned from our west line to our east line on our 32 acre plot. This is the first time we've accomplished this in 17 years. We didn't think it would go. In the morning it was covered in snow. An afternoon of late March sun dried it up fast though. A south facing bank. At first glance this report might not seem like much. It is to me though. The fire between father and son burned bright and hot. Fire 173 3.25.25

I went for a run last night, just after dark. Snow fell. The ground not quite white. This morning I sit in front of the fire wondering will it be white. It's back to work today, to the mail trail. I don't want to fail. So I tell another tale. With the hope it's not too frail. Fire 171 3.24.25

We burned some grass last night. It was just Hayden (15 yrs. old) and I. It was along a roadside ditch and edges of the main meadow. Fire breaks for the big burning we're anticipating. It was the 5th day of my 6 day vacation. Today my last. I can hear the wind whipping out there as I sit in darkness in front of the fire at 8:37 AM. I'm glad we got to work together on the land last night. He was into it. We both were away from screens and their effects. He mentioned that we could go into business doing this. He brought up memories of burning grass with his big brother who is stationed in Ohio. I told him about burning my Grandpa's pasture off with my uncle and cousins back in the early 90's. A big burning that seemed daunting during the telling but just another chore back then. He said not enough people do this anymore. I think Aldo Leopold, wherever he is beyond the stars, would agree. Screens take up too much of our attention. And, to a certain degree, we are what we attend to. Last night we were instruments of the land, not this or that influencer or job description. Tomorrow it's back to the mail trail. Where I get to be mailman in my community. Don't look know how I got here. But I'm feeling this right where I need to be. Fire 171 3.24.25

Read Ishmael, by Daniel Quinn #Ishmael

"I find it good to remember the eternity behind me as well as the eternity before." ~ Henry David Thoreau Photo from the mail trail. Just down the road from me on E. Once farmed now fallow. It's filled with little blue stem. The Jack pine growing will eventually shade it out. The ground will be full of needles, acidic. My neighbor says it's good tick habitat. I think the field needs fire. I wonder if it agrees. I'd rather burn than plow. 3.21.25