It’s only 3:30 in the afternoon, yet the daylight slowly filtering through the thick, smokey air feels misplaced–as though evening accidentally arrived 3 hours early. On a day which was predicted to reach three digits, the thermometer instead flirts with 80 degrees. The majestic Idaho mountains typically visible in the distance are completely concealed in a cloak of secrecy.
MISGUIDED CONFIDENCE
This morning my 8-year-old confirmed the eire sky when he confidently declared that the sun forgot to rise. “I’m serious mom, when I go outside, I don’t have a shadow. The sun hasn’t even risen!” I didn’t correct him. Instead, I tucked the memory of his precious, misguided confidence into my heart and reflected on its startling significance. Continue reading “dirty air | Kamiah, ID”
It’s late evening. The sky should be dark but instead there is an ominous red casting an eerie glow over the hillside behind the RV park where we live. Reclining in a chaise lounge on our front patio area I am watching the hill illuminated by the wildfires that have been raging near our town since Monday morning. Only this evening has the fire approached a distance close enough to warrant an evacuation and like the flames themselves, the energy, concern and panic among those around me is both palatable and spreading.