As wildfires rage across the globe, here in the northern Colorado Rockies we’ve been blessed with lush green forests and meadows. We fall asleep every night to the murmur of Panhandle Creek, and feel a strong sense of reprieve. We’re grateful for the rain we’ve had this season.

Since moving into our mountain community, we’re learning about the importance of forest management and wildfire mitigation. Every year, we haul truckloads of deadwood to the slash depot and weed-wack the area around our cabin to reduce fuels in the Home Ignition Zone. Though we’re working with our neighbors to increase the fire resiliency of our community, we understand the need to prepare for the changes that will come with a warming planet.

The good news is there seem to be lots of options in nonflammable and fire-resistant building materials. We’ll use stone on the lower half of the cabin, but we’ve been pleased to learn about the options available in nonflammable concrete log siding. Those concrete sidings come in lots of varieties, ranging from the gorgeous hand-hewn log look to some that don’t look much better than the old vinyl siding. We’ve had several samples mailed to us, with more to come. Our first choice was extremely heavy and cost about twice as much as the second set of samples. On the plus side, those were light, much easier to work with, and filled with insulation. We have more research to do and more samples to come. Ultimately, we’ll be balancing affordability with a natural appearance that (like the beautiful hawk above) blends into our landscape.

Copyright © 2023 Carmel Mawle. All rights reserved.

This land nourishes us. It provides shelter, feeds our bodies, our senses, our minds, our spirits. I believe we owe something in return. As mountain residents, we have a stewardship responsibility to this land, for the ecological welfare of our individual acreage, as well as the 563 acres of community Green Belts.

We are only now beginning to understand the impact of 150 years of wildfire suppression.  This massive overgrowth of trees restricts light to the understory, reducing plant, insect and wildlife diversity. As the planet warms, these dense forests become more susceptible to drought and disease which, in turn, increases the risk and severity of wildfires. Unlike the clearcutting of past eras, current forestry science calls for restoring our forests to something closer to their pre-suppression state. It’s beautiful landscaping that takes into consideration the contours, soil and moisture, old growth, and micro climates of the land.

With the Cameron Peak Fire still fresh in our memories, we follow these new guidelines, working to mitigate fire risk through the cultivation of a healthy forest. Here, we’re fortunate that Crystal Lakes provides a Slash Depot for residents to bring their dead and dying trees. When snow conditions are adequate, the volunteer fire department will supervise the burning of this fuel. This year alone, Craig and I took down approximately 40 dead and diseased trees, and brought over 20 cubic yards to the Slash Depot.

We’re grateful for the proximity of the Roosevelt National Forest, with miles of beautiful hiking trails a short walk from our front door. But, if you look behind the cabin in the photo below, you’ll see the remnants of the pine beetle infestation on the slope behind us. Much of that terrain is difficult and costly to mitigate. National foresters are working to procure the funding and technology to make that mitigation possible.

On our property, the beetle kill had mostly been removed by the previous owners, but we still had trees in distress.  The primary culprits were rust, a fungal infection, and mistletoe, an insidious parasite that disguises itself as needles. We removed trees with severe infections, then pruned and thinned areas where the infection might be controlled with some diligence. We left the aspen grove with more light and room to flourish. Next year, we’ll check the remaining conifers, prune infected branches and hope for the best.

Copyright © 2022 Carmel Mawle. All rights reserved.

From my window, a trail winds through the meadow and down into the ravine where my favorite little aspen grove dwells. There are other trees there – ­ junipers, firs and spruce, lodgepoles and Ponderosas – ­ but the aspens own that ravine, their common roots winding from the 19^th century logging trail all the way to the road at the top of the property.

Decades ago, bulldozers plowed along old wagon trails and built the dirt roads we now use, but before their roots were cut, they would have connected with the groves that climbed Black Mountain to its peak and probably crossed right over into Wyoming.

The aspens have an elvish quality, silvery white bark and leaves that reflect the sunlight and scintillate in the slightest breeze. Despite their elegant appearance, they are legendary protectors of our forest home. With a higher moisture content, aspens provide a both natural break against wildfire and shelter for fleeing wildlife. Much of the fire mitigation work we do is designed to encourage the growth of these exquisite groves.

In the late 80s, a plane crashed into the mountain across the valley from us. The resulting fire leapt over  the Panhandle Creek riparian system to “Moon Mountain” above our cabin. Today, aspen roots weave through those charred conifers. They are undeterred by rock outcroppings and steep slopes. On either side of the ravine, they thread through crevasses and crumbling granite to emerge in thin white spears, crowned in golden foliage.

Copyright © 2022 Carmel Mawle. All rights reserved.