The existential dread of fire season is upon us. For the last three months, our seasonal average rainfall is supposed to be north of six inches, and most places around here are working on two or less. Yesterday when the boys were heading down from the cabin, there was a fire in Jefferson County that closed a highway. Today there was a new one that popped up, west of Loveland, that has closed part of highway 34 leading up to Estes Park. This one is called the Alexander fire, I believe, and as of an hour ago, it was growing, covering nearly a thousand acres. We may be called upon to offer space to someone the Mr knows from Berthoud, who doesn't yet have alternate plans if they end up in the evac zone. (As of this moment, they're on the edge of it.) After the last ten years of watching fires get bigger and more frequent, and seeing entire towns cease to exist, I suggested to my daughter that perhaps we need to keep bug-out bags handy. The Marshall fire from three years ago made a strong impression on me, and taught me I'd rather not have to stop to think about clothes and medications, when I should be gathering up my cats and dogs to head for safety. The place where I live is a 60-70 year old neighborhood, not really wildland, but I can't say that it's immune. It's probably highly unlikely that a fire would race through here, but not impossible. A few rounds of rain coming through would go a long way to making me feel less grim.
I wasn't gloom and doom all day. I did have fun. I got my hands dirty, refreshing a pothos that I basically restarted from zero (I cut leafless stems in single node "wet sticks" and left them in a prop box for months.) I gave up on the sempervivum that literally didn't live up to its name, and put a sanseveria propagation in its place in the porcelain planter from Hollywood. And in an effort to use up produce from the fridge, the Mr made a "pottage" dinner, so I gathered fresh herbs and some bolted kale to go in it. No day is bad that has that much plantiness.
Plus, I ended the day with a little Snapchat filter conversation with the children. I was traditionally reluctant to do much in the way of filter selfies, but when it's making faces at the grandkids with a big mustache and Mario hat "on" me, I'm all for it. Tonight, there was a sunflower crown filter that perfectly matched the yellow shirt and sage green overalls I was wearing. I wasn't about to let that go without seeing all three kids in it back at me.
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