The statement above is going to be directing my life until it is no longer true.
Downslope, things are escalating: lava continues to explode and fountain, but a fresh breakout is surging precipitously towards the ocean; there are few access roads in that area, and people stranded by the quick-moving flow had to be plucked to safety by a National Guard helicopter. (Lava has a way of moving people . . .)
In my possibly-excessive examination of the news, I found this ominous statement buried in an article: “What we found is that fissure 17, the big one that’s been going for a couple of days, is something completely different than we’ve ever seen on Kilauea.”
Ai yi yi. Something unknown this way comes.
But back to my neck of the woods. Unexpectedly, the summit was relatively calm today, and I was able to leave a window open from morning till night without once feeling sick or smelling rotten eggs. For distraction, I was grateful for the ubiquitous coverage of tomorrow’s nuptials. I also made a (vegan) breakfast dish called Red Flannel Hash and a lovely marinara sauce, and it was another three-hat day.
Huh, I made a red sauce, a dish called Red Flannel and two red hats. Because Pele?