Dang! I wish I was clever enough to think of brilliant ideas. When I saw this photo, it reminded me of our street. Each year the potholes grow bigger because they get patched in the spring, but the entire road needs to be repaved. The county does not have that kind of money, we are told. Yes, it does. Some of our well-traveled roads in town get repaved every other year. It’s just our road that doesn’t.
Before you decide I’m paranoid, – hear me out. Every year like clockwork, we have snow storms, and our powerlines get knocked out. Sometimes the outage lasts for weeks. Why? Because we are the last street in town to get plowed. PG&E will not come here until the snow plow has come and gone. I am sure small-town politics are at play. But I digress…
One summer, our potholes became mini sinkholes because the tar got melty in the heat and caved in. I was not going to write another letter to the Mayor or the council. It was time for action, and I had a great idea! Invite the Mayor & his family to dinner. To get to our house (at the end of the road), he would have to navigate through our treacherous street. Right? Mission accomplished.
I was unable to execute my plan because hubby would not let me contact the Mayor. He was convinced the Mayor would not come and I would embarrass myself. He should have let me try it. It was a lot simpler than this year’s plan. (hehe) I will need some muscle to help me move trees and replant them. I live in the forest, and from my family room windows, I can see a multitude of healthy little trees. I know a professional gardener. I know guys with muscles. This could actually happen.
Arbor Day is coming up soon. Just don’t tell hubby, OK? And YES, that includes YOU, Susan, and Robert!
Evacuation orders & warnings for Arnold & Murphys California have been eased. Northern California is on fire in every direction around us, and this morning we woke up to smoke so thick we cannot see the sun. We know it is shinning up above the smoke because where it comes in our windows, it is orange.
The patches of orange inside and outside are disturbing. They make me think I am seeing reflections from fire. I have to remind myself that I am seeing reflections from the particles floating in the air.
Even the forest animals are sheltering in place. It’s been a week since we watched deer (or rabbits, turkeys, foxes, etc.) grazing in the forest. Our dog has become skittish and anxious. She dashes around the house, then stops in her tracks and stares at us, as if to ask, “Why are we still here?”
Out of the corner of your eye you notice something floating down from the sky. You wish it were snow, however, it is ash. It blankets the ground and everything on it. It gets into the house even when the windows are shut. It covers my car that is parked in the garage. I try not to dwell on the fact that we are breathing this crud. I am back on my asthma medication and I need a refill. My voice is getting deep and raspy. Not in a sensual way, mind you, but more likely to frighten little kids.
I count my blessings every day that my house will be a pain to clean and my car is filthy. My house remains intact and I still have a car to run errands (like going to the pharmacy.) Those two things are major up here and many have lost them. We have power today, so I can communicate by phone, text, this blog.
I have so many things on my indoor to-do list that I can work on, a couple quilts in the works and a crochet project to learn. My office, kitchen & cupboards need organizing badly. My fault for tossing things willy-nilly into places they should go in a haphazard way, to “get to later”. Later is now. I am a homebody at heart, so I feel right in my element. My problem is what to do first?