By Amy Tims | Contributing Columnist
In August, the rapid-moving Keith fire swept through a key conservation site managed by Rivers & Lands Conservancy near Murrieta.
As the warm morning sunrise began casting light on the blackened slopes, the land was quiet except for the crunch of ash under my boots and gentle winds sweeping past. I paced the burn scar, scattering a few handfuls of native seeds and singing prayers back into the wind. The fire had taken almost everything from the landscape but gave back a thick layer of nutrient-rich char that seemed to blanket the land. Scattering some buckwheat and sage seeds, I visualized blooms pushing through the soot and regenerating the landscape with a vigor only made possible by fire. Fire-following wildflowers know how to come back, and I’