Sacred Duty

My house rests on the rim of a dry ravine. Ponderosa pines stand dominant on the scrubby slope below. These are hardy specimens. Ponderosas thrive where water runs sparse and winter comes at them with sharp elbows and knees. They’ve also developed a savvy way to resist wildfires. First, they shed low-hanging branches as they mature—allowing grass fires to race past rather than climbing into the tree. Additionally, their thick, puzzle-piece bark tends to flake away when exposed to flames, denying the fire a foothold

This time of year, ponderosas perform their most sacred duty: opening their cones and releasing seeds to propagate. Each seed comes attached to a close cousin of a helicopter blade. Brushed by a rush of wind, they pop free of the cone and twirl into the expanse.

The other morning, I found seeds scattered across my back deck—released from trees standing some 100 feet away.

Impressive.

I gathered a few and posed them with a Cold Smoke beer for scale. In the background, you can see the ponderosa trees themselves.

Seeds and Cold Smoke

Puzzle-Piece Bark

—Mitchell Hegman