Showing posts with label Wildfire. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wildfire. Show all posts

Saturday, August 29, 2020

Change of Venue

I'm a creature of habit and getting more so the older I am. I don't like a change to my routine and can become somewhat of a grump when that happens. Since I was lucky enough to work from home already, the pandemic didn't alter much for me in that regard. But the outside world does occasionally intrude into my cozy little cocoon.

Here in Colorado we have the Pine Gulch Fire, which is the largest single wildfire in the state's history. If you see photos, the scene is very much apocalyptic. My home is sixty miles east of the inferno and a gray haze colored the air. In the morning and evening you could smell the smoke. A week ago I woke up about 2 AM, sniffing smoke. I lay in bed asking myself, what was burning? I got up and walked through the house, giving every room the sniff test. The odor was so strong I expected the smoke detectors to start shrieking. When I stuck my head out the front door, there it was, the smell of forests burning. Previous to this, the state smell was weed smoldering in a bong.

Days of summer heat didn't help diminish the fire or the smoke. Then on Thursday, I noticed that the afternoon sky was overcast. I heard the crack of thunder. The Internet forecasted rain. I stepped outside to enjoy the rattle of a cool breeze though the neighborhood trees.

The fragrance of impending rain was too enticing to ignore so I decided to set my laptop on a front table table and watch the storm roll in. My dog Scout doesn't like thunder but too bad for him. I dragged him onto the porch to keep me company.

As I typed away, the rain started. A drizzle at first, then the proverbial cloud burst. I expected hail but we didn't get any, thankfully. Rain poured out the gutter spouts and spattered on the sidewalk. Scout curled up in a corner of the porch, safe from lightning and the rain, giving me a doggie stink eye the entire time.

Though I wasn't suffering from writer's block, the prose gushed out my fingers. Fifteen hundred words later, the rain subsided with a serene drip, drip from the trees. I sat back, pleased and thankful for this break in my routine.