The happy dance is over. That victory celebration was for naught. I knew the war wasn't over, but thought I'd won at least one battle. I was wrong. An outpost of guerilla squirrels wearing cammo fur tunneled up again in the corner of the goat barn that I believed I'd taken back and the hole is bigger than before. I'm not giving up, but I'm fighting determined forces and I'm definitely outnumbered.
The smoke is heavier this morning as the Rim fire continues to rage. Coyotes are yipping on the hill across the road as dawn breaks, and yesterday afternoon I watched the twin fawns and their mom graze in my yard. The forest will return after the burn and homes can be rebuilt, but the loss of wildlife in a fire is unimaginable. None of the newscasts I've watched have addressed that issue. It breaks my heart.
It's been hot, it's been smoky; both good reasons to stay sedentary. The delta breezes kicked in yesterday and the temperature dropped and the smoke cleared. Drat! Cursed with an overactive guilty conscience and the loss of any excuse, I attacked neglected housework in the afternoon. That's enough of that silliness. It's another war I can't win.
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The squirrels MIGHT consider moving on, so you COULD conceivably win that battle, but yes, I think you are doomed to continually fight the good fight with the housework. At least with that enemy you know the battle tactics and what your mission is and how to accomplish it...time...after time...after time! Here's your vacuum and dust rag, soldier!
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