If only I could figure out how to capture the smell of orange blossoms and insert them on a web page … Our unkempt jungle of a yard was fragrant and lovely despite our neglect. All of our orange trees bloomed, so sweetly scenting the air that it was hard to leave home. And the wild iris and rhododendron had their best blooming years ever. Sadly, the air didn't smell so sweet at my Aunt Beanie's house. There, it smelled like smoke. And ash. And destruction. Their beautiful mountain log home, built by Jim and Braden, burned to the ground on April 1st in Colorado's Picnic Rock Fire. Although I think of them every day, I can't truly know how hard this loss was. I can only imagine. And hope and pray for things to get better for them. That some good will come from this tragedy.

It's spring and once again, we've set up house outside on the deck. As I lay in bed outside my own fire-susceptible mountain home, with the night air gently caressing my face and the stars twinkling in the patch of sky visible between my beloved tall trees, I am grateful for every second I get to enjoy this incredible place. last diary entry | next diary entry