It seemed spirit dampening to return Heidi’s midwest rainy-day greeting with a greeting from the smoky Palouse; I think the everlasting hills have been out of sight since Monday. Northwest Idaho has had an extensive fire season. Idaho fires are usually quite controversial, but this year’s news is as dry as the grass. Fire seems to draw out Idaho’s hyper-critical anti-government polemic, more famous than its potatoes. This year, hyper-critics must be staying in.
But I didn’t properly return my friend’s greeting or stay in. I went over the river into invisible smoke-screened Lewiston, to Shopko, to buy a new shower curtain. I read several chapters of The Gathering Storm, and of Acts. Smoky days are like rainy days: they impel reading, and the hanging of shower curtains.
I should also have expressed my awe over Heidi’s recent photo–it really is phenomenal, and she has long made my list of superior-being photographers–but I hung the new shower curtain. It coordinates well with our sheets, which also have moose(s?) on them. Heidi’s photo blog is private, and she has graciously shared it with me and a few knew-her-when others.
I’m sorry, Heidi; I didn’t get back to you on that, either. But this way, I can confess a sneak accolade. I also raided a three- or four-year-old can of decaf espresso, and made a cup, using a paper filter. Who wants to clean a French press or a stovetop espresso maker on a smoky day? I killed the ancient coffee’s staleness with coconut milk and shredded unsweetened chocolate. It really wasn’t as bad as it probably sounds.
But now my stomach is, and so is the smoky day.