Ahhh, Prairie Fume, my favorite Wisconsin wine. It’s a lovely wine to sip while sitting outside on the porch under the warm spring sun as the prairie doth fume;
That would have been a very fitting scenario, but I didn’t have the wine on hand, and didn’t know the fields were on fire, and never really connected Prairie Fume with the Latin “Fumare” until just now. 7th Grade Latin class was a very long time ago after all. Pete just happened to come in the door and casually mention, “do you see the smoke?” AAAck! How can you casually mention smoke when you have several wood frame buildings on your property?! Spit it out man, what smoke where??! I maintained exquisite composure while I dove for my fire extinguisher.
Never mind…it is simply a controlled fume. Nothing to see here, everyone go home. But I was intrigued. I’ve seen controlled burns in California and it always left me uneasy. Fire and control are two words that never really seemed to go together. So of course I had to go and have a closer look. Which meant trespassing beyond our field and on to someone else’s field. And that someone else was doing a controlled burn along their fence line. I guess one does this for a variety of reasons ie; clearing the undergrowth, aesthetics, burning down the house. I’m just glad that the wind was in our favor or I would have been very nervous indeed. Don’t make me get out ye old water buckets.
But it’s all right, I hope the burning man accomplished what he needed to do, but next time I hope he chooses a less windy day. I’d hate to have our scorched earth on the next Prairie Fume wine bottle. (Although I’d be very intrigued how that might look!)