Silent Saturday

Watching the fire from a few miles south at the lake.

Fire season

Smoke a half mile or so away.

Tireless Helicopter ferrying water from the Lake to the Fire

so white smoke is good?

Heading North with a Load of Water

Fire from the rental house where I used to live.

It is official . Fire season is late but here at last. We had lightning a few nights ago and now after smouldering we have a fire burning. The brave helicopter is ferrying water from the lake to the fire. Let us hope for success and rain with the storm next time .

connectedness

I was thinking today about what defines life. Part of it is being connected to other things. Part of life is the experience from day to day that delineates who we are. If we quit experiencing things does that mean we are no longer connected to that life around us? From time to time I care for elderly folks. I often marvel how long the human body will continue with the mind absent. I often wonder what these people are connected to at this point. Certainly even now my own connection to life is so different from what it was 20 years ago. Life then was so consumed with caring for small ones. Helpless ones that needed the mother bear. Now that time has passed and I have time to consider the clouds, the sunset and the moon stealthily  slipping up to the zenith of the sky. What is it that we do that keeps us connected to life and others? Is it something that we can consider automatic or must we struggle to preserve it? Must we hold tight fearing an unknown surrender ? Or do we open our fingers with an accepting intention and allow the flowers to fall quietly to the ground?

Of Clouds and Thistles

 After a hot day in the 90s , clouds build in the East over the Foothills. Promising a light show soon, the Foothills seem to beckon the lightning . The attraction is irresistible.

 In the Evening light these wonderful white bells enjoy the last of the light focused on their magnificence.

 One of my favorites the thistle seems to represent life. Beautiful but often thorny . I will harvest the blooms and save them to feed the birds this winter. yea yea I know they are a weed.

sunset in the West with a gentle breeze scented with lavender and petunias. Yes I said petunias. They are hanging and the deer can't reach them . Imagine the frustration.