I'm dusting off the continuation prompt today. I'll get things started and then whoever comes along next gets to pick things up where I left them. And so on and so forth.
The wildfire smoke was still smothering today so not much got done. Brought Max up to Kat's parents house this morning while she had a counselling client, and then brought him into town with me after lunch to get some shopping and coffee shop time in. Then we returned to his grandparent's house because if we're going to be stuck inside, avoiding the smokey air, they've got a whole lot more room than we do at our place.
I've only got one fairly small local order to harvest tomorrow morning so I'm hoping the air will be a little clearer and I'll actually be able to spend some time in the garden to get some weeding done.
It is an... unfortunate thing, when choices made in haste come back to haunt you. The full implications of the alternatives before you were not made clear at the time, because they never are. And yet, inevitably, you will find yourself cursing the day you chose the option that led to your current circumstances.
I can feel the heat upon my skin now. The hairs on my arms are singed. Thick, black smoke chokes my lungs. Standing here, on the roof of my home with a garden hose in my hands, I see fire in every direction. I am surrounded.
It is safe to say, I should think, that at this point I am in one of those unfortunate positions that I mentioned earlier.
The men had come knocking in the middle of the night. Evacuate now, they had told me, the expressions on their face conveying their earnest concern. They could not force me to go though. And even if they could have... they had so many more doors to rap their knuckles against. Time was not on my side, they had informed me. But, clearly, it was not on theirs either.
So I stayed. I grabbed the hose and a ladder, climbed up here and began soaking my home. Let the bastards try to burn this, I thought with grim satisfaction. And, it is obvious now, with foolish pride.
I could not let my precious home be destroyed without fighting for its survival until the very last moment. I am no naive captain going down with his ship. I had intended to leave as soon as it became clear my efforts were in vain.
But then the windstorm arrived, swirling the fire that had been approaching from the south into an inescapable burning circle with my house at its epicenter. A noose, really. And it is tightening around me now.
Still I run the hose back and forth. What else can I do? Jump in my truck and make a break for it? Drive right through the wall of flames closing in on me?
Well... I suppose it is worth a try.