|Benedetto at dusk|
The owner said they cried a lot, prayed, and felt horrible that the choice [or was it a choice?] they had to make to leave was a slow and painful death for their beloved animals.
As happy as I was to see the reunion, it just send me into a tailspin. I know in Oregon there was once a fire that had us thinking of evacuation plans. We did not have to do it, but many did, and it all was terrible to process. And with my menagerie of crippled and elder animals, it would be so difficult. At the time we had 30 sheep, we now don't breed anymore and only have five sheep, but back then, I knew I'd probably have to leave the flock and hope for the best. It's unthinkable...the idea of having to feel at midnight without warning...and to have to be forced to make life and death choices.
I'm not sure I could get through what some of these people have to get through. I tend to soak these things in, and perhaps that is why today I'm feeling rather stuck...sad, somewhat unoptimistic, doubting myself. After five minutes on social media today, I'm staying off, and am going to start getting some wood ready for paintings. In my five minutes of checking on some people I know out West, I also noticed there a lot of people thinking it wrong to go on with their business as usual while so many in so many places are suffering. I'm not sure why they think sitting on Facebook and expressing that is any better. But the piling up of so many storms and fires and other tragedies of the past couple weeks, coupled with what for me feels like an implosion of common decency for all people not just a select group...it adds up and that is what I feel, viscerally on social media of late. People are worn out and they are reacting to that tiredness in their own personal style, and some of it is pretty harsh.
I spend quality time with all my animals, some days more so, and today I just did everything extra slowly. I looked into Benedetto's eyes and told him I was so glad he was safe. I held the bunny and thought of all the wildlife, suffering. Took an extra look at our 1760 house and thought of what it be like to watch it burn.
You can be living a good life and still go to the dark. It's called empathy. I will hope for no wind and rain for California...and resolutions for so many all over in distress.
|View from Rag Tree looking towards the barns|
|We will be pushing The Wood back from the barns in time|