Author: Dre

Inchworm: Friend or Foe?

One of the perks of living out in the country is the abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables available to us whenever we feel like picking some up.

Right now, we’re eating our fill of peaches because they are about to go out of season. And by the way, fresh, ripe peaches straight from the tree? Delicious. And paying a couple of dollars for a whole box of them? Also delicious, but in a whole other way.

Oh, and have I forgotten to introduce you to my daughter’s newest “pet”?

She keeps him in a mason jar in her room, and feeds him cut up peaches. He’s peach colored, too, so sometimes it’s hard to spot him in there.

Are you sensing where I’m going with this?

We discovered him on the table, under a napkin, after we finished a feeding frenzy involving about a half dozen (thoroughly washed) peaches. I’m hoping he was a loner, and didn’t have a family.

Regardless, I think I’m done eating peaches…. at least for now. But maybe forever.

Kids Letters Life in general

Dear Diary

Late Summer, 1986

Dear Diary,

Guess what?? This weekend we went camping with some of the people from Daddy’s work. It was at this cool lake where you can’t walk to your camp site, you have to ride in a boat. We found a good spot where us older kids (’cause now I’m a FOURTH GRADER!) got to have our tent on a whole separate beach from the grown ups and little kids.

When we first got there, we had to jump over a little tiny stream to get to our beach. But Daddy said they were releasing the dams and so the water kept coming up higher. Me and some of the other kids built these little walls out of sand to try and keep the water from coming up to the grown up campsite. But then the water came up anyways and we had to move all the stuff up higher from the water, and then it was this big long walk from the stuff to the water. But Mommy said it was better than having to move the stuff a bunch of times.

One of the grown ups put a log over the stream so we could balance on it to get to the big kids’ beach. It was so funny when Jennifer fell off the log! But I’ve had gymnastics so I know how to walk on it without falling. But then it wasn’t so funny when we were in the tent changing clothes, ’cause it was getting dark, and just when I was coming out I heard somebody scream.

I looked at the stream but I couldn’t see the log anymore, the water must have covered it. And right there next to where it was supposed to be, Sabrina was going under the water. She’s a little kid (I think she’s maybe two years old because I remember when she used to be nursing) and so she’s not supposed to come over to the big kid beach. But she did anyway, maybe when nobody was looking, and she fell in the water and I saw her go under, and she didn’t come back up.

Later everybody said that there was lots of screaming, but I didn’t hear anything because the inside of my head went really quiet. All of a sudden my legs were just moving so fast and I jumped in the water to the bottom and picked her right up. I held on to her so tight and kicked my legs super hard, so we would be on top of the water instead of underneath it. She put her arms around my neck and we just held on to each other and I kicked and kicked until a grown up got there to take Sabrina to the shore.

And then I swam to the shore, too, but I was wearing my Jordache jeans (the ones my mom bought me, NEW! from KMart!) and man they were so heavy when they were wet and I was all of a sudden really, really tired. The grown ups were all there and they were all telling me I was so brave and Sabrina’s daddy gave me a big hug and told me I was a hero. But I told him I didn’t try to be a hero, my legs just went and went. And Sabrina’s mommy told me she never saw anybody move so fast, ever, and that she was lucky that I didn’t get frozen like the grown ups, whatever that means, because I SURE WAS COLD.

Me and Sabrina sat by the fire, wrapped up in blankets while the grown ups moved the big kids’ tent over to the big beach. I was watching Sabrina and she was so still and I never saw her be so quiet before, except when she was sleeping.

Her daddy kept thanking me and I even saw him cry, and I didn’t know that daddies cried.

~ Andrea

Entertainment Life in general Motherhood and Pregnancy

The Price of Silence

The sun glints off the tip of my scalpel as I prepare to make an incision. I hesitate – is this really necessary? A quick nod, and seconds later the sharp blade pierces the skin above my heart.

I remove the slippery, pulsating organ and place it gently on a platter made of fine, polished silver.

“We need to talk,” I whisper, poking an aorta with my gloved finger.

My heart says nothing, just continues its rhythmic beating as if it were still encased in my chest.

I take a deep breath and begin the meticulous dissection of my warm heart.  They must be in there, somewhere. The place that pounds when I see billows of smoke in the distance, even if it’s only visible when my eyes are closed. The spot that squeezes when I see a pregnant woman, and I don’t even understand why.   The general area that leaps into my throat when I think my dark thoughts in the middle of a sunny day. They must be silenced, for they won’t listen to reason.

My search is in vain. All that sits upon the tray is bloody, cut up meat where a perfectly performing heart once was.  Disappointed, I place the mess back into the gaping hole in my rib cage, and close it with my needle and thread.

“I was afraid this might happen, ” I say quietly, and make my way to the bathroom. I wash the scalpel, wipe it dry.

My eyes travel upward with the arc of my hand.  A single drop of blood splashes on the counter top as I make the first of many cuts that will lead me to my brain.  It must be silenced, for it won’t listen to reason.

Life in general Ranch Life

The Aftermath

I was able to take a few snapshots of the fire’s aftermath this morning. Unfortunately, I had to take them as I drove because Blythe woke up at the ungodly hour of 5 AM and was falling asleep in the back seat.

This is where the fire started. Just beyond the trees is the mulch place, where it really got going.

The trees here used to be so thick, you couldn’t see into the place. All those mounds are mulch and bark, still smoldering.

You can see where the fire went along the road as well as along the fence line, burning away. The middle section is our rental property, where Jeremy disced. The fire couldn’t catch hold there.

The house on the left is our rental. The fire went completely around it – I can’t believe how lucky we were!

In contrast, this is a “before” picture of the rear of the property, from back in March. We had a picnic while getting the rental ready for the current tenants and took lots of photos. Several of these houses are gone now.

The fire went on a ways (where I can’t get to in a car) and came out here, which is behind our house. This is where I ran into the wall of fire and smoke while we were evacuating.

This is the right side view of the railroad tracks, shown above. The homes you see here are in a small subdivision that was just built a year or so ago. The fire came right up to their yards, but firefighters were able to divert it. It’s crazy to think that if the housing market hadn’t slowed down, you’d be looking at burned up houses right now.

Here’s the other side of the road, where it just kept on going.

And going.

Fortunately, between a farmer having his many acres irrigated for cattle as well as prepped for fire season, and helicopters defensively pouring water in the fire’s path, they were able to contain it and put it out only a few hours after it started. Four houses, an out building, a truss plant and the mulch place burned, along with hundreds of acres of grassland.

Looking at those photos, it is apparent even to those who aren’t familiar with ranching, that having acres upon acres of tall, dry grass is not a good idea. Even a disced fire break 15 feet wide is no match for a fire with 25 mile per hour winds pushing it along.

Life in general

Smoke = Fire

On our way home from the grocery store late yesterday afternoon, we were alarmed to see billows of smoke in the distance. As we got closer to home, we realized that the fire was actually burning at the property right next to a five acre parcel we rent out. As we crept past, we were finally able to draw breath when we saw our tenant outside, talking to Sheriffs – he and his family were safe. I didn’t realize, until that very moment, that I had Jeremy’s hand in a death grip.

Somewhat relieved, but still nervous, we made our way home and as I unloaded groceries, Jeremy turned all the irrigation sprinklers on around our property. Not five minutes later, the Sheriff knocked on the door and told us to get out, and get out NOW.

The fire was burning hot and fast in the 25 mile per hour winds that descended on our valley for Labor Day. Acres and acres of dry fields are so common in the country, despite warnings to property owners to cut and disc in preparation for fire season. They all went up in smoke, adding fuel to a hungry and relentless fire.

Jeremy was so glad he had disced the entire field on our five acre piece after bailing the hay there this year. That very act probably saved not only our rental, but the people who live there. The houses behind that property were not so lucky – today, little but ashes remain where some of them once stood.

Taking the Sheriff’s warning, we put the groceries back in the car along with some clothes, back up disks for the computer, the three inside cats, and random stuff I couldn’t stop grabbing. Alison was in a full-on panic, and Blythe was hungry but there was no time to eat the dinner I had started to prepare. We left Jeremy and the dogs with the truck and went down the driveway to go to my parents’ house.

As I turned left toward their house, all I could see was a wall of intense, thick smoke and tall flames across the road. The fire had already made it to us, and was making its way past us, as well. I had to turn the other way, and give up the hope of making it to my parents’ house. Instead, we went south and then east, around the fire’s path, to get to Jeremy’s parents’ house in another town.

Unfortunately, I had been trying to wait until after the holiday weekend to fill up on gas, and was literally running on fumes. The kids were crying and Alison had to go to the bathroom, but we were out in the country with nothing around. My eyes, nose and throat felt like they were on fire from inhaling so much smoke as I loaded the car to make our escape. There was a lot of hopelessness floating around in my body, but we made it safely to our destination.

—- We’re all safe, and our home was spared. But I have to stop there for now. —-
See photos of The Day After here.