..and all is well, for the moment at least, here at ground zero for the Sawmill Gulch fire.
How weird to say that when fire is just yards away from the perimeter of your favorite creek; when smoke is now billowing hundreds of feet into the air upstream just a quarter of a mile and blowing your way, fueled by (amazingly light, based on earlier predictions) traditional afternoon Montana winds; and when your back yard looks more like a rain forest with now three sprinkers spraying hundreds of gallons of water per minute, each, into the space that you traditionally look out at for tranquility.
But "well" it is, and, no, there has been no visit from Der Sheriff, no word from Der Blogmaster (and, hence, no pictures posted--although dozens have bee sent to him to post--continued tsk, tsk) and the sun is quickly easing its way towards the burning hilltops, indicating that winds should become less of an issue and that perhaps, just perhaps, the fire is going to "lay down" for another evening--one of the many new words that I have learned during this fire period (did you know, by way of example, that the progress of fires is measured, as it has been for centuries, in "chains"?? [A "chain" is 62 feet for those, like me, who weren't in the know--I thought it had something to do with chain saws!]) Another interesting new word for me is "duff" and, no, that is not Kathy's dear, dear Florida friend Susan Duff, but, rather, the fluffy material that develops at the foot of trees into which embers like to rest, using it much like you would the "duff" for a fire-making flintstone--a no-no to have about your Rock Creek trees that you might want to preserve to bloom another season.
But I wander--it must be that lack of sleep getting to me or the knowledge that, assuming that we are yet here and unevacuated, Tyler and I will spend another vigil evening keeping track of the even and ever closer fire just across the Creek--with great pleasure and honor, I might add.
More in a bit,
Best,
RCR
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