1 August …

 

The fires in California are hitting my center.

The Carr fire west of Redding burned out several towns and subdivisions including Old Town Shasta (it had been a favorite place of Michael’s), burned out a friend’s daughter, and burned over Michael’s last residence as well as the place where he died. It currently stands at 115,538 acres – 35% contained.  

The Cranston fire east of Hemet on HWY 79 (Pines to Palms Highway) is in the area where I grew up.  It is called the Cranston Fire because the closest landmark is the Cranston Fire Station where I backed into a bridge abutment the first time I tried to drive Daddy’s pickup.  It burned Mountain Center where some Tyler-Hall cousins live and had burned toward Idyllwild where other Tyler cousins live.  The Idyllwild cousins are safe and at home again and the fire is nearly contained.

Other fires have made me sad and wary but these two, right together, hit me …

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However … life goes on and last wednesday was another food bank day.  I think folks are beginning to believe that I have taken this on as a given project and expect to see me arrive for work.  That’s nice.

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The family arrived home with Paul on saturday about 1730.

Now the house feels right again with the exception of some of Paul’s behavior.  He was acting up at the dinner table one evening and his father asked if he had behaved that way back in Baltimore.  The answer was “No,” so Mark asked why.  Paul said “Because back there I get everything I want.”   Readjustments take time.

So far, Paul and I have gone on picture-taking walks and out to care for the chickens, and last night we went out into the meadow and played with Little Sir Echo before we watched the RED (from the smoke) sunset.  We held our breath as the last light went down behind the mountains.  Tomorrow we will count the rings in a tree stump.

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Remember the RLStevenson poem I mention (maybe too often)?  Well … we are in an interesting place right now.  We get up and dress “by golden candlelight” but we still go to bed “by day”.  The sun doesn’t hit the house until nearly 0700 and it is still light at bedtime (2000).  No longer full summer but not yet autumn.

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My herb gathering and prepping has taken a backseat … like so much else.  But the Oregon grapes are nearly ready for jelly.

I am gradually rebuilding patterns and habits and have hopes for the next goround.

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We still have a lot of smoke. There have been times when we can’t see Mt Eddy at the top of the meadow let alone Black Butte and the Mountain.  Fortunately the smoke is grey rather than toxic brown. 

Humidity has remained high.  It’s resembles being in New York when the temperature is 95º and the humidity is 98%.  You sweat and stay wet.  No way you can “glow” like a Lady in this weather.

Want to get something done?  Do it early.

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The rooster’s crow is sounding more like it should and less like a kazoo.  It is a kick to listen to Paul crow at him and hear him answer.  We will begin getting eggs next month.

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… and just a reminder …  

 

There are things we need to say to each other … sans fear.  Do you love someone? Tell them without being prompted.  Do you like their hair or what they’re wearing or something they’ve done?  Ditto.

That’s how you build up the world around you. You affirm. You share.   It means more, so much more, when we directly tell someone that they matter.

Whenever we feel it, we need to share it.

 

Go on.        Do it.        I double dog dare you.

 

So … ‘til  next week …