Since the Millenium, fire season has grown.  It starts earlier, last longer, and burns more brightly in between.  The change is West-wide, and Montana is by no means immune, for all of its other charms.  The time comes most years when we can no longer see across the valley.  We might no longer see across the street.  Breathing is an issue.  Activity is discouraged.  Life grinds to a miserable halt or proceeds against advice despite it all. 

At the checkout line, everyone is talking:  another evacuation.  Slurry bombers ferry retardant from the airport through the smoke and grumble into the distance.  Helicopters lift buckets of water from the river and drop protection on wildland homes.  Smoke jumpers strap on their parachutes and head for the front lines.

Yes, we are living the dream, but homeowners in exile are praying that the wind dies down.  We can't see; our eyes burn.  We can't breathe; our chests are tight.  We look for rain that doesn't come.  The dream is hidden by a veil of smoke.  For how long?

I struggle to remember the choices I have when reality is tough to take:  Resist, escape, or accept.  Accepting is the only peaceful option, yet it's so very hard. 

***

 What aspect of reality comes unbidden and over-stays its welcome for you?  How do you deal with the inevitable days when it's all outside your control?