Christmas in January

My Christmas cactus bloomed this year.

This is my only houseplant, and I'm fond of it because – in a way – it belonged to my grandmother who passed away in 1979. My aunt took the plant after my grandmother passed on, and when my parents visited my aunt many years later, my mother took some snippets of the cactus, brought them home, and potted them. She gave me one of the plants. It has bloomed without fail every Christmas since.

Last year, with all the chaos of our move right near Christmas, the cactus didn't bloom. In fact, I left it (after a thorough watering) in the sink of our rental house, essentially abandoned, when Don and I moved here to our new home. The rental house still wasn't completely emptied, and it wasn't until much later I was able to return and fetch everything out – including the cactus. I'm happy it survived, but it didn't bloom last year. (I couldn't blame it.)

But this year it bloomed. I'm taking it as a good sign. We're blooming too, in our new home.

The cactus wasn't the only one celebrating Christmas. This past weekend, Don and I celebrated Christmas by traveling to see Older Daughter at her apartment.

Before leaving, I wrapped some presents.

These were not only for Older Daughter, but also for Dallas and Susie, some beloved neighbors from our old home. We've spent every Christmas since moving to Idaho with these fine people, and it was good to continue the tradition.

These are the neighbors who lost their home last summer in a fast-moving wildfire that decimated our old neighborhood.

We engaged in some fundraising efforts to help them get back on their feet. And you, dear readers, responded with unbelievable generosity. Thanks to your prayers and help, they're recovering. They're overwintering in an apartment a few miles away from their old place, and hope to rebuild in the spring.

To say Dallas and Susie were grateful for the help is an understatement. Shortly before taking down the GoFundMe page, Susie posted the following message:

This couple has been through so much in the last few years. Dallas lost his bladder to cancer. Susie got breast cancer (thankfully caught and treated very early). They got COVID. Their house burned down. In short, it's been a rough few years for them. But the response from friends and strangers alike when the fire came through was so overwhelming that even now Dallas – a big strapping cowboy – chokes up when he talks about it.

Anyway, thankfully the weather held so we all met up at Older Daughter's apartment. She had set things up charmingly.

We brought Mr. Darcy with us, of course. It takes several hours to get to Older Daughter's apartment, and we couldn't leave him alone all day. Besides, he was absolutely giddy with excitement at seeing everyone.

We had such a fun celebration! We talked nonstop for three solid hours. Older Daughter's hospitality was wonderful – elegant yet informal. The only thing that tore us away was the nearly three-hour drive we had ahead of us.

I got a picture before we left.

We got home shortly after dark. Mr. Darcy was so worn out by the excitement of the day that he lay flat on his side for hours, sleeping it off.

If this past couple of years have done nothing else, they've illustrated how uncertain life can be. We're beyond grateful we still have the opportunity to celebrate holidays with the people we love.

(This is the commemorative "dumpster fire" ornament Older Daughter gave Don. Very apropos, I'd say.)

Fire update

Don wrote the following.

___________________________________

Patrice asked me to give you all an update on our GoFundMe efforts to help out our friends, Dallas and Susie, who lost their home in a wildfire. As of this writing, we're over $20,000 – not too shabby for one week! Thank you to all of you who have donated. Dallas and Susie are incredibly grateful to you all.

Older daughter (who lives closer to our old neighborhood than we do) traveled there to take some pictures. She was quite disturbed to see so many of the places she's known since childhood looking like moonscapes.

Here's a before-and-after of a portion of the road. Despite walking this section hundreds of times, I can't figure out exactly where that second photo was taken. I think that shook me up more than anything.

Before:

After:

Here's a photo of what's left of Dallas and Susie's place. I don't have a "before" photo, so you'll just have to imagine a snug one-and-a-half story cedar cabin with an amazing canyon view out the north windows. Inside on the first floor was a living room/kitchen combo, with a bathroom and small guest bedroom. The second-floor loft was their main bedroom.

The living room was filled with years of memories: Pendleton blankets, comfortable easy chairs, numerous cowboy hats (Dallas is a cowboy – yes, really), western posters, and a bear skin rug with a story behind it.

The kitchen had a big wood cookstove, and Susie's father – as a gift of love to her – made the hickory cabinets before he passed away. There was a chest freezer filled with venison and elk steaks, and a large pantry filled with canned food put up by Dallas, who loves to can.

All gone now.

Nothing can bring any of this back; but thanks to your generosity, and that of the neighbors and community, they're starting to get back on their feet.

So thank you again for all your prayers and support. We'll let you know more as things develop.

Follow-up to prayer request

Thank you all for your prayers yesterday when we learned our former neighborhood was burning. Thankfully no lives were lost, but we're saddened that some of our dear friends, Dallas and Susie, lost their home and all their possessions. Miraculously their horses and cows escaped, singed and terrified, but at least alive. However their livestock's winter food supply also burned.

Older Daughter, who is closer to our old neighborhood than we are, drove in yesterday evening. She took the following photo of a plane dropping fire retardant.

We've created a GoFundMe page to help these folks recover and hopefully build some sort of shelter before winter, as well as obtain food for their livestock. If you're able to donate any amount, they would be very grateful. And so would we!

Update: Amazingly, our old homestead wasn't burned, though I understand the new owners spent the night putting out fires in the outlying gardens (yes, plural; they've installed a second garden).  The most amazing miracle was the fire roared right up to some newer neighbors, a delightful family with seven homeschooled children who live on the property next to us. The fire burned a tool shed and then stopped ten feet from their home before the wind shifted. If that's not a miracle, I don't know what is.

I'll post more info as I catch up with more neighbors. Bless you all for your prayers and your generosity. It's been an emotional few days for us all.

Close call

Day before yesterday, we had thunderheads building up. The rain skirted us, but we spent much of the late afternoon and early evening watching lightning hitting beyond the ridge to the north of us.

 

(No, this is not my photograph.)

But thunderstorms this time of year are a serious cause for concern, especially during the kind of heat wave we've been experiencing over the last two weeks. I wasn't altogether surprised to see helicopter activity the following day, toting a bag for dipping water out of lakes.

I got online and searched for Idaho wildfires, and saw there was a small and (thank God!) under control fire about ten miles to the north of us. Worth watching, but not an immediate threat.

Not ten minutes later, we got a phone call from an old and dear neighbor from our last home, asking if we were okay and how close was the fire? We told him what we knew, and that we were fine.

As it turns out, our old neighbor almost...wasn't.

It seems on Wednesday, a spark from a train that passes below his house caught the terrain on fire, and it came roaring uphill. What followed was a hellish chaos as neighbors evacuated and firefighters took control. The fire burned up 20 acres of timber – tall mature standing timber – on the parcel of land next to him, but by the grace of God the firefighters were able to stop the flames before they burned any buildings, so our neighbors' homes are intact.

Just like that, our old neighborhood was nearly obliterated. Three times in my life, we've nearly lost our home to wildfires. They terrify me.

This Independence Day weekend, lots of people will be doing lots of things with lots of fireworks. Please, I beg you, if you're in the dry west, be sensible. The heroic firefighters who saved our old neighborhood don't need or want any more work.

Meanwhile, our neighbor's harrowing experience put a flame under us (bad pun, sorry) to pull together the bug-out bags we disassembled during the chaotic months we were moving. We need to make sure we have copies of important documents, contact information for friends and family, pet accouterments, and supplies to get us through several days with a reasonable amount of dignity.

After all, we never know when a wildfire (or earthquake) could take it all away.

The sight no one ever wants to see

Yesterday in the early afternoon, I heard the sound of a large truck rumbling up our road. I stepped onto the porch and saw it was a firetruck, no siren but with lights ablaze.

The truck went beyond our driveway, where only two other neighbors have property. Don and I looked around but saw no smoke, so we speculated perhaps it was a medical emergency.

Oddly it wasn't until another neighbor called that it was confirmed the truck was following smoke. Our neighbor's vantage point was clearer than ours, even though we're closer, because trees blocked our view. I walked down our driveway and saw this:

This was definitely one of those heart-in-the-throat moments as I imagined our neighbor's house burning. Additional trucks came in, more and more of them.

The cows were intensely alert toward the smoke.

As I trotted down the road toward the neighbor's a quarter-mile away, I was surprised to hear what sounded like gunfire. Could it be ammunition exploding in the fire? In fact what I heard was simply the sound of the fire itself. I'd never been this close to a full structure burning and it was noisier than I realized.

As it turns out, it wasn't our neighbor's house, it was their barn. It was a small barn, more like a large shed, and it was completely gone by the time I got there.

One of the neighbors said she had started a burn pile the day before, and the wind ignited the embers and started the structure on fire. Thankfully no one was hurt and no animals were in the barn.

It does illustrate the need to be responsible with burning. Right now the fire danger in our area isn't high since we're just out of winter, but it's still critical to keep burn piles contained and away from buildings.

I'm just thankful it wasn't any worse.

Lament for my hometown

Here's my WND column for this weekend entitled "Lament for my hometown."

I am stunned by the devastation of these fires in Wine Country. The whole catastrophe is tragic beyond belief.

If this map is accurate, the house I grew up in has been incinerated. Thank God my parents are safe -- they retired to Southern California several years ago -- but the rural neighborhood where I grew up apparently is gone.

Napa in flames

My hometown (Napa, California) is in flames.

The sheer quantity of fires which sprang up overnight and roared into infernos before winds of 35 to 50 mph makes me think arson is the cause, though that's just speculation on my part and has not been confirmed. But whatever the source, fires through Napa and Sonoma Counties are clocking a tragic toll of burned homes, businesses, and wineries.

It's hard to follow what's going on from this distance, but familiar place-names are leaping out at me from every news article. My parents moved outside Napa in 1972 when I was 10 years old, and I grew up in a semi-rural area a couple miles up Monticello Road on the east side of the valley. I believe parts of Monticello have been evacuated, but I don't know the status of my childhood home. (My parents retired and moved elsewhere several years ago.)

It breaks my heart to think of Wild Horse Valley Ranch at one end of the region (where I took horseback riding lessons as a kid) to Stornetta's Dairy at the other end (where every schoolchild took multiple tours) being burned -- not just because of the structures and livelihoods, which are bad enough; but because of all the animals (horses, cows, etc.) unable to be evacuated.

This article noted, "For long time Napa Valley residents the massive fire rekindled memories of the 1981 Atlas Peak wildfire. In that blaze, 23,000 acres were burned, $36 million was done in damage, 65 structures were destroyed and 11 people were injured."

I remember the Atlas Peak Fire eerily well since it nearly burned us out. It was terrifying.

Please pray for the hardworking emergency personnel and firefighters, as well as those displaced or burned out.

If there are any blog readers in the area, please check in to let us know you're safe and to give us news.

Holy smoke

It's not unusual to have smoke in these parts, either from field burning or from wildfires.

Yesterday morning was vaguely smoky, as often happens -- but then the wind shifted or something and suddenly it was very smoky. The light took on a freaky yellowish cast, all distant landmarks were obliterated, and anyone with breathing problems or allergies was advised to stay indoors.

Yes, there are hills beyond this horizon...

...and a large butte in the distance.

The sun looked bleary and old.

I drove into town...

...and saw the Spokane newspaper had the smoke on its front page.

My purpose for being in town was to pick up some additional dust masks (Don slept in one last night). The fellow at the hardware store said they were flying off the shelves.

A regional news article reported the smoky conditions and included a photo of drivers with their headlights on during midday.

One saving grace about this smoke is the temperatures are being moderated. It was projected to be 98F today. Instead, as I type this, it's 79F. Of course, we can't open the windows to enjoy the fresh air...

Oh well, this too shall pass. But my heart goes out to those facing the wildfires producing this smoke, as well as to the brave firefighters battling them.

Moving cattle

Sorry for the silence of the last few days, but we've been crazy-busy since my return from Portland. There are a lot of things occupying our plate during this our busy season, not least of which is moving cattle around.

We're still in the grip of a nasty month-long heat wave with temps in the mid- to high-nineties. I know folks in the southwest consider that a cold snap, but we're not used to it up here just a couple hours from the Canadian border. None of us do well in heat -- that's why we're not living in Phoenix or something -- so we've been suffering through (without air conditioning, of course) as best we can.

We've been vigilant about the comfort of the cattle, of course. I don't think it's humane to let animals bake in unrelenting sun with no shade if there are alternatives available. So depending on the temperature, we've been shuffling the beasties between the pasture (no shade) and the woods (shaded but not as much food) as needs be.

Yesterday we decided it was time to move them onto a neighboring 20 acres we lease during the late summer and early fall. This property has abundant trees, fresh grazing, and a pond -- so we call it "the pond property."

But first we needed to put some animals in with Samson, our bull, for breeding. This required me to figure out who was already bred, who was due to give birth, who was too young to breed, and other particulars. We don't like to breed heifers until they're about 15 months old, which means they'll birth their first calf at the mature age of two.

We decided we would put in Victoria and her yearling heifer calf Rosy, and pretty little Dusty. The two young ladies are now old enough to breed, having been born last May.

It was an easy matter to call all the critters into the feed lot (adjacent to the bull pen) with our universal cattle call of "Bossy bossy bossy bossy BOSSY!!" Before letting anyone loose, of course, we closed the driveway gate, just in case... though it was unlikely anyone would wander in that direction.

Then we starting cutting out animals one by one.

They knew where to go, and obediently trotted to the pasture gate... though, I might add, without much enthusiasm. After all, it's hot, and the pasture is pretty much eaten down.

Nonetheless, in they went.

They fanned out, picking dutifully at the short grass.

Once all the target animals were out of the feedlot, we opened the gate to the bullpen and let Samson out, along with his pen-mate Raven who's been with him since mid-June and is now, we assume, bred. We'll leave the gate open and let the animals wander between the bull pen and the feed lot. We'll scoot Raven out when the opportunity presents itself, but there's no rush. (Raven is the black cow. All the others are red or dun.)

Samson was having the time of his life, sniffing all the girls' butts.

Meanwhile Don and I didn't say a word to the rest of the cattle, but we quietly started walking to the bottom of the pasture to open the gate to the pond property. It didn't take long for the critters to catch on to what we were doing.

They started following us...

...quietly at first, then with increasing enthusiasm.

The older animals knew precisely what was up. The younger ones just followed along.

Soon, in their enthusiasm, they got ahead of Don and me.

The babies, Chuck and Lucy, didn't know what was going on, but the enthusiasm of the herd was catching and they dashed around playing tag, despite the heat.

"C'mon!! Open the gate already!"

Within seconds, everyone was pouring through...

...including the babies.

They settled right away into bovine bliss. Fresh food, lots of shade, plenty of water... not much more a cow could ask for!

An hour or so later, I went to check up on the critters in the feedlot. Samson was still sniffing bottoms.

Bulls routinely do what's called a Flehmen response, which allows them to test for the presence of pheromones to determine whether a female is in heat. That's what Samson did the blessed day long with his new harem.

Cows cycle about ever 21 days, but the very presence of a bull may trigger a cycle sooner. These ladies will be bred within a month at most (it's best to keep a cow with a bull for two cycles, just to make sure a breeding "takes").

Meanwhile I saw an opportunity to shoo Raven out of the feedlot. She went into the pasture with very little trouble.

Trouble was, she didn't know where everyone else was. For two or three hours she grazed by her lonely self in the hot baking sun. Finally I took pity on her, went into the pasture, and started walking down toward the pond property. I called very softly, "Bossy bossy bossy!" and she fell right in line behind me.

Within a couple of minutes, she was through the gate.

I walked her to where the other animals were blissfully grazing in the shade.

She was very happy to rejoin her herd-mates after a six-week stint in the bull pen!

Little Alice came bouncing right over to say hi.

So all was right with the cows. But as I walked back up to the house admiring the pretty clouds to the north...

...I turned and noticed this ominous smoke to the south.

I immediately called the Fire Department to see if this was a controlled burn (in this heat? not likely!) or a wildfire. It was the latter, and the hard-working firefighters had it subdued within an hour or so. It started from a lightening strike from a thunderstorm that rolled through night before last. Scary moment!