09/04/2026
That summer felt like the first summer of a new life, even though nothing changed on the outside, everything changed on the inside.
Truly got to be with horses five days a week, every week, from the first Monday of summer to the last precious Friday (Fridays are always Pony Parade days). She assisted at 5-day camps for kids, helping, guiding, caring for the horses she knew so well. She’s ridden all of the dozen horses over the years, learning their personalities and needs like a big sister. Her boots got smaller, the smile stayed wide. The child becomes a young woman.
Tadg reveled in post high school graduation freedom, counting down the days before college began. Eating, sleeping, gaming, hanging out with his crew - repeat. He returned from a two day on campus orientation glowing like he had ascended to the final level of an epic quest, reaping the rewards of many glorious battles. Now he knew he was going someplace worth traveling to, a place of possibilities where he could thrive.
The summer started hard, we had to evacuate because of a fire. The kids had already been through evacuation last summer, when the Flat fire was held at bay down the dry canyon a block from our house. They took it in stride this time, though friends were visiting and summer was just starting. On the morning of the third day of its birth I knew it was time for us to leave. I had everyone settled someplace safe with friends or in boarding facilities - animals, visitors, and kids - by 3pm when our evacuation was forced and our home became inaccessible for a week. The fire grew to almost 30,000 acres, at one point marching 2 miles a day, eating up timber with voracious delight until it was stopped a mile from our home.
It might sound hard to believe but I had resolved myself to losing the house this time. I trained myself to do it, visualizing us all together, smiling and healthy but in a new home. The house could die but we would be safe, together. It was early in the fire season, crews came from around the world. They were heroic, despite everything the weather threw at them. We didn’t lose a single soul, only a few structures were consumed north of us. One of our cats decided she’d had enough and darted out the window the day before we left. If you see a cat named Lilly, tell her we miss her fat, delicious self and she should come home.
I hugged the walls when I returned home to check on things. After feeding our rogue cat who stayed but hid (Lilly’s brother Tigey), I sat and let its presence sink into me. This house has held so much of us over the last 7 years. So much growth and love. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
That was the summer, a month after we settled back in, that I opened the window to the forest and saw Being there, clearly, as I had a few times before in my life. The presence of Spirit filled the land, space within and between each tree, the air thick with it. It felt as if I suddenly understood I was living in the body of a soul that envelopes everything, and everything is an expression of that soul including me. At once astounding and as normal as breathing, I was never separate from that presence and everything it endows.
I knew I had to let go into it, and I knew I was afraid to let my tiny self dissolve in its vast, tender, cradling hands. I retreated back into my bed, under the covers, hiding from everything except the reality of my cowardice. After a few moments of beating myself up I returned to the window and looked out again. Yes it was still there as it will be until time itself dies. My fear will fall away to dust soon enough, and the presence will always envelope all that is.
I knew my ego wouldn’t budge today, but I bowed to the presence of Being and was able to own that eventually, I would surrender.
Another week passed and then, without the slightest warning, Autumn arrived. Our summer, the last summer of us as a small clan of children and widower, ended. I pulled on my winter hoodie for the morning walk with our German Shepherd Dandelion, and breathed in as much of the season's change as I could. Fires were gone. We were still here. My favorite time of year was waiting to savor one morsel of a moment at a time.
It couldn’t feel more perfect to me, even with the fire and the loss of Lilly. She was born, along with Tigey, in our kitchen cupboard back at our old home. Her mother, a semi-feral cat Tadg named Night Moon, wandered in to bless us with kittens a few weeks before their birth. I tended her as she delivered five kittens at 3 AM during the summer 12 years ago. We kept Tigey and Lilly and found homes for the rest.
They are the perfect blend of kitchen cupboard and wildness, dipped in the honey of lustrous purring affection, but ready to spend days hunting out on the land. Tigey has always been the wildest, a Maine C**n with a grey cherubic face framing haunting green eyes. Somehow I feel he’ll stay with us until the end of his days, years from now. He has never given up even the smallest part of his freedom. That's true of me and the kids too. Lilly made her own choice, I hope the world made safe passage for her. I feel her in my heart every day.
That's what makes this moment such a special doorway for each of us. Because we still have our freedom there are no limits to what we do next. We’re here for it, come what may. There will be fires and losses, and we will be here loving each other and saying yes to life. That is what we do.
What a precious summer we have been gifted.
Blessings to you and yours during this time of great change.
