Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Curves.
A lite colonel I used to work with looks me up about once every 5 years. This time, he waited about 6 before emailing me out of the blue.
I met him back about 1988 or so when we were both working on our Masters’ degrees and kept running into each other in the same classes. He was an O-5 and I was a GS-5 trainee. We often teamed up together whenever there was a class project coming up. We were always reliable as teammates—and that wasn’t always so of every lieutenant or trainee in our classes. He was also a “safe” teammate who didn’t get drunk and hit on me like half of those lieutenants did.
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He’s about 60 now and having the adventure of his life in Montana—the kind of thing we should all aspire to—and he’s quite a good photographer. He sent several amazing photos—some taken from glass-bottomed helicopters and others while climbing mountains and glaciers—and said I could share with friends.
One that really struck home with me was the one he called “After the Fire.” It reminded me of somewhere between the 5 of cups and the 9 of pents…that part of re-birth where there’s a backdrop of devastation and a garden is starting to take hold.
Here’s the story behind it, ironically the fire took place about the same time as my divorce, when I first had this image. So amazing to see it now in a photograph.
“The East Fire in Yellowstone National Park a couple of years ago did considerable damage but as you can see, these wildflowers came right back the following year (photo made in late July 2005).”
A Southern witch returns home. Secrets won’t stay buried. A chance to confront and heal—or face the consequences.
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