In a winter, spring and now summer of overly dry air and land, the hurricane has finally come. Sixty-five mile an hour winds, cloudy skies and lightning, but it’s a hurricane without rain.
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Sweeping through the canyons next to and above Colorado Springs, Manitou Springs, Woodland Park, the Air Force Academy almost to Douglas County, The Waldo Canyon fire has been a media star.
This time of year, we’d be griping about the monsoon season, aptly named for the strong, drenching thunderstorms that pull moisture up from the Gulf of California. Instead of rain, the storms are dry heaves with lightening that sets the land on fire.
As human beings, we’ve lost the humility that warned us that we would never hold the trump card. To see fire is to understand that. And if you’re smart, you’re very, very scared.
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Disaster tests relationships, putting them through paces like some demented Consumer Reports engineer. Just as no car gets a perfect score, neither does a relationship. There’s no crashing head-long at the speed of a hurricane without sustaining damage.
I will tell you, from personal experience, that my relationship has been scorched. Months later, I’m just figuring out there isn’t much room to be exemplary when you’re running as if hell was right behind you.