My husband and I were out for a walk in our country neighborhood when we saw an unusual puff of clouds scattered across the Colorado sky. "Fire," he said. "You think?" I countered. He nodded. I choked just a little.
It was ten years ago that our area of Colorado was dessimated by the largest fire in Colorado history, the Hayman Fire. Every summer, it is always in the backs of our minds just how horrible it was. People lost homes, thousands and thousands of acres of beautiful Colorado mountains were left blackened and barren by the careless act of one of our own. A Ranger who supposedly set fire to a Dear John letter in a campsite during the drought of that year. The fire burned for the greater part of that summer. Our governor declared that "Colorado was on fire".
Now 1200 acres just three short miles from our home is burning out of control in a canyon surrounding by crags and mountains difficult to maneuver by plane or foot. Zero percent contained, 200 people displaced, horses and cows moved to different locations for their safety. Spot fires are a danger. Cinders caught in the wind can re-ignite. The air is thick with smoke making breathing difficult even for those with no respiratory problems. I, like so many others, have lung problems, and my inhaler does no good for now.
It is bad! Eight new fires started yesterday. Some arson, some not. Why anyone would deliberately do this is beyond me.
This entry is full of distress. For that, I apologize. Please pray for us. Pray for rain. Pray for safety. Pray for those fighting the fires. Pray for our peace of mind. Our small, tightly knit community is pulling together. It's amazing to see. But we'd rather do it just because we like each other. Not because we are fighting for our homes.