bits of sunshine

the seasons are changing

february 19 and i am writing that the seasons are changing . . . 

we have noticeably more hours of sunlight than we did just a few short weeks ago. each morning, i get up and walk through the house, turn up the heat and turn on some lights and start the coffee pot. for a few months, the sky is dark, and still dark when i emerge from the shower, get dressed, and pour myself a cup of coffee, the sun not yet up over the horizon line of the neighborhood. for a few weeks, i arrive at work (at 8:00) before the sun has made its appearance. 

each evening, i leave work sometime between 4:30 and 5:15. for a few months, the sky is dark when i am heading home, the sun already low, shining somewhere else, further west.

this morning, i was up at 6:15, the waning moon shining brightly in the lightening western sky, clouds stained pink in the eastern sky, the sun ready to make an appearance over eastern montana before 7:00. 

the air today is warmer, even in the early morning.

and i have a beautiful box of fruit and veggies to eat and share and cook with. the vibrant colors feel like summertime and hope. 

ben headed out early this morning; he'll be teaching all day today and tomorrow. we are already starting into the season where staffing and preparation and fire load will demand that he live and work at the station eighty-six miles northwest of home. fire season used to be shorter, more predictable, late june through mid-september, with a few random fires outside this fairly predictable timeframe. but seasons change. and there have been three fires in the coverage area ben is supervisor for in the last two weeks. in years past, no one in montana would be thinking about preparing a wildland engine and bringing it into service in february. those engines would stay winterized and out of service for at least two months yet. last week, at least one engine up in jordan got prepped and brought into service ready status. the seasons are changing.

maddie will graduate at the end of may. she has her summer job lined up and she knows where she is headed for college in the fall (just across town) and what program of study she will be starting.

isaac has one week of hockey left. next weekend is the state tournament. and then he will be applying for a job. 

i am sorting through pictures and boxes, getting ready to make memory boards to display at graduation parties. and i am going to find a way to spend more time outside and more time writing. i'm not just sure how this will work out, but i need these two things. i feel most alive when i have been out, breathing deep, walking or biking or paddling or sitting with the sun on my shoulders. and i write to find out what i think and to share what i think and how i feel with you. because no one wants to be alone in all of this. and we want to be reminded to notice the moon in the sky, the sun coming up, the color and taste of an orange, the sound of laughter, the changing of seasons. 

today, notice something about the season you are in. notice something that is changing. go gently, love fiercely, and be wonderful.  

 

30 august 2021

usually i love facebook memories
but sometimes they are a mix of happy and sad

i signed on today, and this picture brought me right back 
into the cool night air
filled with the sounds of the baseball game,
the kids enjoying cotton candy,
ben beside me,
all of us crowding in for a picture . . .

and my breath caught
my eyes pricked with tears
and i wanted nothing more
than to be planning an outing for friday night,
all four of us together somewhere,
cool air,
music,
lights,
laughter,
good food,
me bumping into ben,
his cheek right there for me to kiss,
his hand right there to rest on my shoulder,
all four of us crowding in for a picture . . .

but that is not a plan i can make.
and the feeling of being there, in the moment of the picture
juxtaposed with the feeling of ben being so far away
sucked the breath right out of me.
my left hand ached,
pain radiating from the palm
into my ring finger
and then back into my palm,
through my wrist and up my arm
and i wrapped my right hand around my left ring finger
and breathed deep and deep and deep

and no thank you,
i don't want to count days,
i just want to make it through today . . .

and there will be a day when all four of us crowd in for a picture again

there will be

 

2 august 2021 :: dirty august

and this is how my mind works

i was thinking about the term dirty august 

i first heard it from another wildland fire wife - august is often long and dry and hot and filled with fire and fire assignments - dirty on so many levels

so, today, i googled the term . . . maybe don't do that?

but one wonderful thing i found - there is a poetry collection by Edip Cansever titled Dirty August 
originally written in Turkish and translated by Richard Tillinghast and Julia Clare Tillinghast-Akalin

the poem that was shared on the website from the collection is simply beautiful

Table

A man filled with the gladness of living
Put his keys on the table,
Put flowers in a copper bowl there.
He put his eggs and milk on the table.
He put there the light that came in through the window,
Sounds of a bicycle, sound of a spinning wheel.
The softness of bread and weather he put there.
On the table the man put
Things that happened in his mind.
What he wanted to do in life,
He put that there.
Those he loved, those he didn't love,
The man put them on the table too.
Three times three make nine:
The man put nine on the table.
He was next to the window next to the sky;
He reached out and placed on the table endlessness.
So many days he had wanted to drink a beer!
He put on the table the pouring of that beer.
He placed there his sleep and his wakefulness;
His hunger and his fullness he placed there.
Now that's what I call a table!
It didn't complain at all about the load.
It wobbled once or twice, then stood firm.
The man kept piling things on.

 

this resonates with me.  so much.  if i scroll back through this blog, if i scroll through my instagram, if i look back at my old flickr account . . . so much of my life is held on my table.  

 

on my table

my bible and my journal 
sun rays 
darkness
candlelight 
letters to be read and letters to be written 
meals 
bills and the checkbook 
uno 
settlers of catan 
mexican train dominos 
christmas cookies 
homeschool work 
college coursework 
presents 
balloons 
birthday cakes 
communion - the bread and the wine
flowers cut from my gardens 
flowers gifted by friends 
elbows 
tests 
tears stifled and tears that overflow
plenty 
barely enough 
cups of coffee and sometimes tea
glasses of cool water and sometimes soda
bowls of soup 
plates of food fresh off the grill 
stroopwaffles 
crumbs 
bowls of fruit
lists 
registration forms
immunization records
maps
drawings 
plans 
papers scribed with hopes and dreams and how will any of this ever work out 
paint 
crayons 
markers 
love notes 
legos - sets built following the directions and amazing original creations 
hand-drawn cartoons
pictures
easy laughter and hard truth 
sometimes questions, sometimes answers
books and more books - storybooks, picture books, books for research, and books full of good words
boxes and tape 
piles to be packed 
piles unpacked, waiting to be put away   
scratches and water marks 
table runners and table cloths - each with a story about a shop or one of my grandmas or my mom 
surprises 
rocks 
collections of bugs and fossils and feathers  
a bright light, a vise, tweezers, bobbins, whips, and flies
fabric, scissors, and pins
the sewing machine
homework 
essays, math, science experiments, spanish worksheets, and report cards 
laptops 
telework 
beads and string 
invitations 
boundaries 
words poured out 
fists pounded 
palms flat 
fingers entwined 
forgiveness 
hospitality 
and grace

grace piled on grace

grace for the clearest days of may
and grace for the dirtiest days of august

grace offered
on my table

wildfire

today, ben told me there was a fire just south of town.  i walked outside to smoke in the air

and i texted ben, "it smells like the world is on fire"

he texted back, "it kind of is"

"how many acres are burning?" i asked

"200, 500, 80, and 20 going on now"

i got in the truck, and headed toward the fire closest to town  

the thermometer for the outside temp on the truck read 104 F

and this is what i found, 12 miles south of town

 

i was quite a ways from the fire - but close enough to sometimes see flames, to smell the smoke, to see the helicopters dipping from the river and dropping water on the fire, to see the LAT drop retardant, to see the SEATs making passes, to see engines and buggies headed in.  

this fire was caught at 2500 acres today, even with pretty high winds and the very hot, dry air.

and i will continue to be amazed by fire and the people who fight it . . . i wish you could have been standing on the pavement by me when the helicopter flew right over my head to land and refuel, standing on the  pavement in the hot, dry wind, smelling the smoke, watching as probably a hundred people worked to catch this fire.  it is an amazing thing to be close to.  

 

day 25

this is day 25.  that means the 21-day assignment is over and today is the last day of travel.  that means that this evening, we will all 4 be home together!  

before ben left, i asked for a picture of all of us together.  they humored me.  

headlights recede

i sit here, waiting for you to call,
    because tonight you headed out, late
    because fire season
    because there are always things to talk over
        as we do our best to parent our children well,
        to be responsible,
        to nurture our relationship,
        to be good stewards of all that we are given

i meant to share supper with you,
to share tucking our kiddos in with you,
to share kisses with you,
to share a conversation with you,
to share our bed with you,

        but

two hours ago
your headlights in the driveway
a flurry of
    pouring coffee
    packing groceries
    grabbing a pair of pants
    petting the dog
    hugging the kids
i followed you out the door
    placed bags in the truck
    we shared a kiss
    a hug
    an embrace that lasted
        {i didn't want to let go}
        {i don't think that you did, either}
you pressed the sides of my ribcage with your strong hands,
    wrapped your fingers tight,
        let go
    then pressed my waist
    and i pressed one last kiss to your lips
i said i'm glad you can go away from here, but not glad you have to go away from me
    i watched you climb into the truck
    closed your door
        and watched your headlights recede into the darkness

the house creaks, the windows make strange popping sounds, and it occurs to me that the wind has quickened

my mind sometimes starts to wander to thoughts of if it were just you and me . . .
but it's not. 
and i'm so glad it isn't. 
and in just six years it will be. 
two-thirds of the time we get with them is already in the past
one-third more
then it will be just you and me
and i will do things differently than i do now
and i will miss them 
but i will be so proud of them 
and i will go to them and watch their performances and ceremonies
and i will have lunch with them
and buy them bed sheets and groceries and toilet paper
and i will watch their eyes shine as they tell me all about what it is that they are doing their best at 
and then, i will encourage them to continue 
and i will press hands
and press a kiss to cheek
and they will watch me climb into my vehicle and close my door
and my headlights will recede . . .

now, for tonight, my thoughts are filled with it being the four of us . . .
and of you and i being good stewards of four lives . . .
and of your hands, pressing me together . . .
before headlights recede

 

gratitude week :: wednesday :: wildland fire

my husband has been a wildland firefighter for many years.  his job has always fascinated me. 

this summer, i got the chance to take the basic wildland firefighting classes.

last week, i got to work on an Rx burn {prescribed burn} in an area of the forest that i live next to and work on.

{a little information about prescribed fire :: Rx burns refresh habitats, get rid of invasive species (plants that aren't native to the area - sometimes known as weeds), and make the forest (or grassland) more healthy, ecologically sound, and clean up dead and downed timber and thick duff and understory so there isn't as much to burn if lightning causes a fire.  an Rx burn actually saves the native species of plants and animals from an unplanned fire that could burn far too hot and kill everything.}

:: gratitudes ::

learning something new

watching fire and its behavior relative to the ignition pattern, the weather, and the fuel

the pungent {but certainly not acrid} smell of burning sage

the sweet smell of burning ponderosa sap

cleaned up dead and downed

a healthier and safer forest

working with my husband

working hard in the sometimes fresh, sometimes smokey air

all of the interesting people i got to work with

cool, fresh water

the taste of pb&j after some steady walking with a pack and a firefighting tool

riding home at dusk with ben in 2603

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

find other gratitude listers in the comments on michelle's blog

on instagram at #gratitudeweek_2016 and #htfgratitude

at hello there, friend, hosted by beth and Lindsay

and more gratitude from me, here, tomorrow

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

go gently, love fiercely, and be wonderful, my friends.

love, e

summertime time

time moves so strangely for us.  summertime time is fire season time.  and that doesn't even look the same from one season to the next.  this season, we are in a pocket of hot and very, very dry.  {we go to the river as often as we can for some wet and some green.} ben can be working a fire any given day, and may be camped out on one for one night or three nights or five nights or no nights.  he might be in the station for part of a day, but then be back out on a fire again by evening.  days of the week don't hold any particular meaning right now.  except monday.  monday nights the kids have band practice, so that acts as a marker in our weeks.  and i work monday through friday, so the kids and i can count on doing something that makes it feel a bit like a weekend on either saturday or sunday. 

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

friday night :: my husband is out patrolling a fire that is just over the border to the south, a fire being fed by strong winds out of the south

he was home for two hours - 2000 until 2200.  he had supper.  he sat on the front step with maddie and chaco for a while.  i sat by him on the couch for about fifteen minutes or so.  and then his phone rang.  i packed up some of the chocolate chip cookies i made this evening and poured him a fresh cup of coffee, gave him as big a kiss as i dared in front of the kids, and told him, "i'll see you when i see you."

lightning is flashing, wind is whipping, the moon that was full and is now waning gibbous appears now and then from between cloud masses and lights the landscape

saturday morning :: bright sun.  wind out of the northwest today, changing to southwest sometime this evening.  red flag warning till 2100 this evening because the wind + sun + dry conditions + humidity lower than 30% and even dropping down in the low teens = dangerous fire conditions.  the guys were back in the station for about half an hour this morning.  the wind changed last night and kept the fire south of the border.  i was having a cup of coffee by ben when they got another call.  to a fire on their coverage area.  about 17 miles from our house.  depending on the behavior of the fire, the kids and i might drive out later to have a look and take some pictures. 

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

if ben gets a day off right now, it is either wednesday or thursday.  but, they can also work 14 days straight and sometimes get an extension to work 21 days straight.  after 14, they have a mandatory 24 hours off, after 21, they have 48.  but there can be modifications.  this last stretch was 15 days with 24 hours off.  so, ben had thursday off, and i took thursday off, so we could spend the day together.  all four of us. because the next time we get to do this may very well be in september.

we made the most of our day.  we all slept in a bit, just enough to feel really rested.  we drove south and did some errands that needed doing.  we laughed and talked in the car together.  we ate lunch at one of our favorite restaurants.  we played in the river in spearfish canyon.  we ate treats.  ben and i drank coffee.  we brought pizza and a movie home with us and stayed up late.  we filled the day up with good things. 

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

and now, today, saturday.  the kids and i will bump around home together.  maybe do a few chores.  maybe play a game.  maybe do some hobby projects.  and tomorrow, sunday, more of this easy summertime.  it may not be so windy tomorrow.  it may be a good day to go to the lake.  we'll see how the day shakes down.  how time moves for us. 

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

happy saturday, my friends, whatever your saturday may look like.  go gently, go fiercely, and be wonderful.
love, e

 

smoke in the air

that's a wildfire.  about 15 miles outside of our little town.  and yes, when i smelled smoke from inside my house, i grabbed the kids and we went for a drive.  at first i wondered if we'd get to report a wildfire.  but, i turned the first corner, saw the smoke, turned on the radio, and heard the guys' initial attack of the fire.  i took the first three pictures as we were driving toward the fire.  we parked to watch trucks move and an airplane fly over.  we listened to the guys work with each other over the radio.  and i decided that i needed a picture of the fire through the field of wildflowers.  i didn't spend much time at that angle though.  a young rattlesnake sent me running back to the truck.  the final picture here is what i can see from my bedroom window.   

it's saturday.  it was slated to be a day off for ben.  we were going to sleep in, go to the lake or go for a drive up into the hills, do summer/saturday/family things.  but, fire season arrived with about ten thousand flashes of lightning over the past few weeks and no rain to speak of.  our next family saturday will be in september. 

the weather today is the kind that whips a fire into a wild beast.  25 mph sustained winds with gusts up to 50 mph.  80 degrees F.  fuels that are bone dry.  only a few inches of moisture since the first of the year.  the grass around here looks like august grass, not june grass.  the weather is the kind that makes those firefighters dig deep.   whenever they lay down their tools and helmets and lie down on the hard ground tonight, they'll sleep the sleep of the utterly exhausted. 

so, onward into fire season.  here's to enough time for rest, and even a little time for play, all mixed in to a busy fire season.

a simple letter

hello friends,

here i am again.  yesterday i wrote to you from my desk at school.  this evening i am writing to you from my couch.  ben, chaco, and i are sitting together on one of our tiny, funny couches.  there is symphony music playing.  i can hear isaac sorting through legos upstairs (there is an x-wing fighter in progress).  i'm certain that maddie is in bed reading.  and outside, the wind is whipping.  30-50 mph with gusts up to 70.  it sounds like it's going to rip through our windows.   

while i'm on the subject of the weather, today was a beautiful, eclectic mix.  this morning was grey and heavy.  we were socked in by dark clouds.  but around 11:00, they broke up and by 2:00, it was perfectly clear and 64 degrees F.  we took our morning recess at 11:00, when the sky started to clear.  after lunch, nobody wanted to head back inside.  but in we went, and i had my three work really hard for an hour (it's amazing what the incentive of doing an outdoor journal page and then being allowed to play in the sunshine does for work ethic!), then we set up journal pages and headed out.  it was so warm.  and beautiful.  the kids and i all counted to five four times (see my journal page above) and made little lists and did some sketching.  there were birds chirping and singing. robins, even!  and i heard a fly buzz by.  i was in awe that this is a february day! 

after finishing their journal assignments, the two boys played catch until the end of the day.  maddie and i sat on the step and continued to sketch and drink in the sunshine.

at 3:30, maddie and i biked home, put our things away, grabbed the leash and the dog and headed out for a walk.  a good, long walk.  maddie was wearing sandals! 

once home, i prepared supper and some dessert.  which reminds me, i should not talk about tasty food and then skip sharing the recipe!  i had quite a few requests for the recipe for the cinnamon toast bars i wrote about yesterday.  i am going to amend yesterday's letter to include that recipe, so check the end of yesterday's post if you would like to make some cinnamon toast bars.  (you should.  they are so tasty!  and could be easily glutenized or veganized.)

in other news, ben is fire-ready.  and it is february 18.  and we live in western south dakota.  the packs are packed and ready.  he is back to work full-time.  the winter furlough is over already.  so. very. early.  we got such little moisture over the past months.  and with the warm temps and the wild winds, any little spark would run away into a very big fire crazy quick. so, as i type this, the smell of smoke is being stirred through the living room; ben is going through his fire pack once more.  reorganizing.  making certain he has what he wants and can foresee needing, things that are worth their weight in the pack he will carry 16+ hours a day whenever he is fighting fire. 

and i am working at being ready for him to be gone at a moment's notice. 

but for now, i'll stare at him, all goofy and in love.  and i'll crawl in with him tonight.  and enjoy the hours i get with him. 

so, my friends, i am signing off for tonight. 
go gently into your tomorrow and be wonderful. 
with love, e