If I Were Blind . . .

If I were blind, I would know something was amiss as I entered the town of Pecos.  The acrid smell in the air would make me suspicious that there was something wrong.  But the less than distinct odor would make it hard to identify, and by the time we would be driving up the canyon, everything would seem fine.

If I were blind , as I was getting out of the car at the cabin, I would think everything was just fine. The joyfully singing wren, the nesting Sweetie Bird, the gurgling stream would not let on that something had changed.  The sounds of the robins, grosbeaks and hummingbirds, the chattering squirrels made everything seem hopeful and beautiful . . . if I were blind.

If I were deaf, I would smell the acrid aroma, but within about 15 minutes I would see what was causing it.  I would see the burned hills, the charred trees.  At the cabin, I would see some wildflowers, but I would be overcome with the sight of burned ground.  I would be struck by the magnitude of the work the firefighters had to do around the cabin. Despite all of Don's work to make sure the cabin was fire ready, it was obvious there was more for the firefighters to do.  I would see the effects of the fire, both good and bad, and I would understand how serious the fire was.  There would be little to cheer me, if I were deaf.

But I am not.  I am not blind, nor am I deaf.  I could hear the birds singing, I could see the Sweetie bird waiting for us to vacate the cabin.  I could watch the fish in the stream, I could see the hummingbirds, I could see the signs of deer.  But I could also see how close we came to losing the cabin.  I could sense the impending possible disaster from the rains. My emotions were in turmoil . . . hopeful and grateful, sad and concerned.  

I am glad I have seen it.  Relieved might be a better word.  Now I am hopeful.  The green grass is already beginning to sprout through the ash.  The wildflowers are blooming . . . a little.  We even had signs that a bear was around.  It is another chapter in the Stroll Up the Canyon; another time to be grateful not only for the memories but for the promise of things to come.