The forest fires are bad. The smoke worse. My home is at the center of a National News Story of the Fire that just won't quit.
For a period of time yesterday I had my truck packed with pictures and papers. The vehicles are filled with gas and the list of what to pack is pasted to the door. The sprinklers are going to keep the ground around our home moist and everyone stares to the west at the orange glow in the sky. It is close. Way, way too close.
It is wild fire season and we are in the middle of the worst year on record.
I have been spending hours at the evacuation center caring for the elders of my daughters communities and the stressed children of stressed parents who fear their homes may burn. I pour coffee and make tea. I hand out juice boxes and water bottles and color pictures with toddlers. I help seniors find the washroom and hold hands with the disabled.
It seems very, very little but appears to mean alot.
We need rain. And more than a sprinkle.