This is the Lekwungen summer of many years ago.
This is a time when the bountiful crops of the year (including the sweet camas bulbs and clams) have been gathered from choice, often family owned sites, and are waiting to be properly prepared for winter.
The fall harvests for shellfish and chum salmon have already begun. Though before turning attention wholly to this work, the land will be fired to cleanse and clear it for winter's sleep.
The broad scale fires are purposely lit near the water and allowed to burn toward the hills. The flames move rapidly consuming only the driest and finest of fuels, dancing in eddies behind oaks and crackling through the open, wind-swept prairies. The blackened earth captures the sun's rays during the day and keeps the soil warm. Together with the fall rains, the underground world of roots, bulbs, and seeds begin to reallocate their reserves and renew their structures. The earth is reclaiming the impacts of intensive human efforts.
The burning of the landscape is not simply a chore, but a learned and shared responsibility. Burning represents an integral relationship of trust between people and their environment. The fires are an annual right of passage between a summer of abundant gathering and a winter of gracious consumption.
This is also a time for specialized summer groups to reconvene in the villages to begin the important tasks of drying, preserving, and storing all the resources that were acquired over the summer. Everything that was not eaten or otherwise used immediately will be procured and processed. This is a concentrated and coordinated effort, by elders and youth alike, in preparation for a season of ceremonies and feast.
This is the Songhees summer of today.
An intimate sense of place remains strong though many of the special sites of gathering and fishing have disappeared or are no longer available. Many of the traditional foods that are necessary to maintain a healthy diet are either inaccessible or are no longer safe to gather.
The burning of the land has not occurred for over one hundred years though many feel this is a responsibility that should be preserved. Modern-day issues, such as unemployment, diabetes, and school dropout rates, now consume a significant amount of attention and time.
Some important cultural resources, such as salmon and berries, are still annually procured by family groups. The songs and ceremonies associated with the harvests and land management of prehistory are remembered. Harvesters today, especially those who have never gathered from the land before, come away with epiphanies of connectedness and openness. This bond is not only a spatial one, but temporal as well. The eternal link remains intact because those who tended the land over many centuries before did so responsibly and with integrity.
There was one small camas harvest and pit cook earlier this summer. There may be one small prescribed fire to cleanse the site this fall. Slowly, the link grows stronger.
As Lekwungen summer draws to a close, the shorter days and cooler nights will blanket the earth as she rests through winter's ceremonies.
Cheryl Bryce
Brenda Beckwith
