The Burning Season

One of the surest signs of spring in this area is grass fires. Usually set by kids at lunchtime or after school, the smell hits your nose before the stinging hits your eyes. I looked out my window at the woodsy area behind the houses across the street, and, sure enough, the smoke was rising.

It's a springtime ritual. Logically, it makes no sense. It's dangerous, and it takes the firefighters away from what might be real emergencies. And yet, year after year, the smoke rises and the ground blackens. The kids set the fires like their fathers and grandfathers before them.

Is it some sort of primal instinct? Does this happen in other areas?

Just musing ...