God Bless

As the smoke continues to be a part of our very breath, it occurred to me today that life just goes on.  The news is only the news for so long and then it gives way to new news.  Because everyone knows, old news is just that.  Thick smoke blankets our valley and cuts visibility to counts less than 100.  It permeates and causes coughing and hacking.  And life continues.  It may slow a day and cut down on activity but life still goes on. 

It's the way it is.  Might as well get used to it.  Some days the smoke lifts and gives a bit of relief while other days start out with this heaviness and mid-day the sky appears to give hope that the fires will someday end.

This past weekend my "fine figure of a man", our friend Suzie and I decided that Saturday night was an evening for adventure.  We loaded the dogs and headed for the local hamburger joint.  We didn't stay long as we headed "down river" to see what we could see.  The road was long, the conversation good but we didn't see what we intended to see.  Bill was camped on the mountain (a huntin' we will go) with his son and grandson.  We had intended to visit for a brief time while fulfilling our need for the high mountain air and dusty roads.  Maybe even hoping to get out of the smoke.

What we saw were multiple groups of hunter's camps and a fire just a couple of ridges over.  We explored unknown roads, chatted with a random hunter and survey'd the scene.  All in all, we arrived home a little tired and ready to be out of the pickup.  Jessie, our old blue healer, can attest to that as she headed for the brush upon arrival.  Poor thing, we hadn't even let her out of the pickup once.

The smoke never left us while we were on our journey.  It didn't stop us but perhaps it slowed our senses while giving us a constant reminder that things were just not quite right.

I couldn't help but remember a conversation I had with a friend of a friend after our loss.  She described her visit as having finally found the courage to come and see me.  As we sat, chatted and talked of our mutual loved one, I described my grieving as a forest fire. 

"It is like a very hot fire has come through the forest  --  devastating everything in its way. 

I can smell the hot, burning smoke in all the aftermath. 

The trees, charred beyond recognition, are stubs of coal."

 

That was a moment of realization that our loss was so big and so deep.   Realizing that the char was vast and not likely to recover all that quickly.  Being realistic in the knowing. 

 

In the very next breath, to this sweet young lady, I began to speak of the hope of the growth that eventually springs forth after a fire of great magnitude.  The sprout of grass or small tree, the deer finding its way back to the blackened forest in search of new life.  The birds of the sky circling around again, hoping the bugs are once again present.  Life.  It was a moment when life was on the forefront and the knowing was different.  All in the same breath. 

 

So as the news of the fires changes daily and interest wanes, there is hope that life will again spring forth in the charred forests of our beautiful world.  But as we wait, it is vital that joy be found in the little blessings of life.  God bless the firefighters and keep them safe.

Unsettled Skies

The smoke was just billowing as I crested the hill from work today.  There is no denying it.  This isn't going away very soon.  The feel of rain in the air was brief.  The smoke pushing toward the heavenlies, entertwined with the clouds while the sunshine shone through an opening.  It was a magnificent sight. 

When I drove in our driveway, I remembered my "fine figure of a man" saying I could park in the garage.  It was a welcoming sight and made me thankful.  Maybe I'm spoiled but there is nothing like a garaged car when winter comes.  My hubbie worked hard today and it was evident.

I think a lot about the view.  So I thought I'd share part of my special view.  On Sunday I rolled out of bed in time to grab a cup of coffee and head out to the back yard to enjoy the cool morning air.  About half way through my steamy goodness, I noticed a hummingbird low to the ground.  It was doing its thing about the bushes.  Soon it switched to the dogwood tree.  My interest peaked as to what it was up to because there are no blooms on the tree at this time.  So I watched.  What it did next was so sweet.  It was bathing between three leaves.  The water had come from the early morning sprinkling that is lavished on our backyard daily.  The hummingbird was enjoying the small puddling amongst the trio of not just one but multiple clusters of healthy, green leaves.  As I enjoyed the "filling of this vessel" moment, I thanked God for the sweetness he lavished upon me on this particularly tough Sunday morning.

The fair was on its last day.  It was one of those weeks when the activities of some of the most fine families around Siskiyou County get together and celebrate some of what this county is about.  Livestock and tradition.  Acutely aware of the day, schedule and activity of this special little county fair, there were many moments replayed and missed.  One day I'm sure we will go and watch and smell the memories with a smile on our faces. 

We have a couple of gray squirrels who live among our trees.  Today they were working together to gather the acorns.  First they had to get them out of the tree.  So in squirrel like fashion, they were knocking as many to the ground as possible in one afternoon.  I'm sure they intended on gathering when the time was right.  Foiled.  They did not factor in the "blow and go" that my "fine figure of a man" planned for the yard today.  I'm thinking that if the squirrels are gathering acorns early in August that God has a wet, cold Fall planned for us here in Scott Valley.  On a day like today I'm just going to hang on to that thought.

Motion is Lotion

The building of thunderheads was gradual but steady.  Half our week of vacation was gone before the fluffy white, unproductive clouds turned angry with wind and pelting rain.  At least that's how it was at our house.  Out of the North came the winds that rattled the blinds and as we scurried to close the windows, we laughed.  The clap of thunder let us know that the recent clouds weren't fooling around.  They intended to show their greatness.

Hence the fires.  The local smoke of summer becomes one with your very breath.  No escaping.  It's here to stay until a different act of God calms the blaze.  The sun, red.  The horizon visible at times.  The summer evenings transformed, hot smell of smoke and fire. 

It was a week of sisterhood.  At least one sister.  We arose in the am at no particular time, shared coffee in the great outdoors.  Talked about what the day would look like.  Our goal, if there was one -- to move.  Our 96 year old Granny always says "motion is lotion".  So we set our feet in motion upon the pedals of our bikes.  We saw beautiful views and a few deer.  We met people to talk with and yes, we sweated.  We were pretty serious.  Serious yes but not so much that we couldn't enjoy an ice cream at the local jolly cone.  Not so serious that we couldn't stop and visit and even share dinner with parents and friends.  The seriousness of life would skirt away at the most unexpected times with laughter on its tail.

Hoping to catch up with sister #1, we stopped mid day by Granny's.  It was a hot day but Granny was nice and cool in her big house.  We interrupted her mid day nap but she was happy to see us.  We toured her garden and yard before settling into a visit.

Generously, she filled a couple of bags with fresh veggies and invited us to eat from her strawberry patch.  In fine Granny fashion, she spoke of family and smiled her smirk when she didn't want to say what she was thinking.

 

She warned us to avoid the low flying clothes line as she motioned with her index finger what it could do to a person.  I stooped and thought of the many pieces of clothing it has held over the years.  I have always loved a clothes line.  I told my sister once, it's quiet at the clothes line because none of the kids want to go there.  So during our peak kid years, if she was at my house, I knew she would always hang the laundry in the great outdoors.  One, because it made the clothes smell good, two because she loved the view and three--it was indeed quiet.

 

The apple and pear trees at Granny's, loaded with fruit, amazed at the ability of these old trees to set on a harvest.

 

 

 

Going in Granny's back door, the entry shows the wear.  The wood, tattered with many nicks. The white handle, one of my favorite old things.  The door handle has been opened many more times than I can comprehend.  The generations.  The trips from the garden, woodpile, milking the cow.  Grandkids that have opened this handle with youthful quickness.

 

Our visit with Granny was sweet. 

Our visit with Carla was sweet.

Here's to sweet moments that turn into hours that make up a day. 

It's the thankfulness that is important.

Our week ended with Carla boarding a plane.  The things that remain are feelings of satisfaction from time spent together, the need to continue moving and yes, the dreaded smoke.