For the past couple of months now, there have been forest fires raging all around us – yes, history does repeat itself! (refer to post of May 26). While Montana has fared reasonably well in regard to fires (only three fires of 20,000 acres or less and several under 500 acres), Idaho has suffered terribly. A large fire near Boise and eight in the Nez Perce National Forest (across the northern panhandle); have raged out of control for weeks. The one in Boise is 145,000 acres and only 60% contained, and the fires in the northern part of the state comprise over 50,000 acres and are in such steep and rugged mountains that it would be too dangerous for the smokejumpers. All they can do is try to maintain it with water and slurry drops, and hope it will soon burn itself out. What we need is several days of solid, soaking rain with no lightning to settle this mess, but there is not a drop in sight. Oregon too, has almost 100,000 acres on fire at the moment.
The smoke from these fires has been filtering into our valley for a few weeks now, some days worse than others. The wind, when we have it, usually blows the smoke away. But today, it all blew into the valley instead. There is an eerie, yellowish haze to the sky, and the mountains are practically invisible. This evening as the sun headed downward into the western sky, it took on a myriad of colors, from orange to red, to bright salmon pink. There is even an occasional light downfall of ash, somewhat reminiscent of Mt. St. Helen’s, although not nearly in the same capacity. The smoke burns my eyes and wreaks havoc with my allergies. The smell of smoke is everywhere, on everything, and embedded into my brain.
In spite of the smoke and haze, we adapt as best we can and life goes on. Went down to the river at Council Grove today, to observe the changing of the season. Now that school has started, there are far less people there and I’m able to sit and watch the goings on uninterrupted by noise and human intrusion.
The young flickers and Lewis’ Woodpeckers were as active as I’ve ever seen them. The Lewis’ do migrate, so it’s understandable that they would be feeding heavily to prepare for their long flight ahead. But the flickers are here year ‘round. Maybe they’re stuffing themselves in preparation of a long winter… At least they’re stuffing themselves on fat grasshoppers and ants. Only one of the three Osprey chicks are left in the nest, high above the river, its parents having flown south weeks ago. It sure sounded lonely up there in the nest, chirping away with no one left to answer. In another week or so I imagine it will be joining the rest of its family on their southbound journey. The magpies are returning from the higher elevations and the geese are beginning to form large flocks.
It’s getting colder at night, and the forecast for this Tuesday night is 33 degrees! Guess maybe it’s time to start closing some windows at night? Time to relight the furnace too! I so hate letting go of summer, it never seems to last nearly long enough. This year we went from continuous rain to 95+ degrees daily, with no pleasant, comfy, breezy mid-range summer weather. It was like going from a rain forest to Death Valley…
The tomato plants are beginning to turn yellow, even with plenty of water, and there is still plenty of unripe fruit left on them. Some are slowly ripening but many are not going to. But they won't go to waste - I can just hear those slices of fried green tomatoes, sizzling away in the skillet!
The smoke from these fires has been filtering into our valley for a few weeks now, some days worse than others. The wind, when we have it, usually blows the smoke away. But today, it all blew into the valley instead. There is an eerie, yellowish haze to the sky, and the mountains are practically invisible. This evening as the sun headed downward into the western sky, it took on a myriad of colors, from orange to red, to bright salmon pink. There is even an occasional light downfall of ash, somewhat reminiscent of Mt. St. Helen’s, although not nearly in the same capacity. The smoke burns my eyes and wreaks havoc with my allergies. The smell of smoke is everywhere, on everything, and embedded into my brain.
In spite of the smoke and haze, we adapt as best we can and life goes on. Went down to the river at Council Grove today, to observe the changing of the season. Now that school has started, there are far less people there and I’m able to sit and watch the goings on uninterrupted by noise and human intrusion.
The young flickers and Lewis’ Woodpeckers were as active as I’ve ever seen them. The Lewis’ do migrate, so it’s understandable that they would be feeding heavily to prepare for their long flight ahead. But the flickers are here year ‘round. Maybe they’re stuffing themselves in preparation of a long winter… At least they’re stuffing themselves on fat grasshoppers and ants. Only one of the three Osprey chicks are left in the nest, high above the river, its parents having flown south weeks ago. It sure sounded lonely up there in the nest, chirping away with no one left to answer. In another week or so I imagine it will be joining the rest of its family on their southbound journey. The magpies are returning from the higher elevations and the geese are beginning to form large flocks.
It’s getting colder at night, and the forecast for this Tuesday night is 33 degrees! Guess maybe it’s time to start closing some windows at night? Time to relight the furnace too! I so hate letting go of summer, it never seems to last nearly long enough. This year we went from continuous rain to 95+ degrees daily, with no pleasant, comfy, breezy mid-range summer weather. It was like going from a rain forest to Death Valley…
The tomato plants are beginning to turn yellow, even with plenty of water, and there is still plenty of unripe fruit left on them. Some are slowly ripening but many are not going to. But they won't go to waste - I can just hear those slices of fried green tomatoes, sizzling away in the skillet!
No comments:
Post a Comment