Riverbend Road. RaeAnne Thayne

Haven Point mobilized to fill sandbags and help people who lived along the river move their valuables to higher ground.

      Because of the efforts of so many, local damage had been minimal, but a few properties still had been affected. She knew others whose basements had been flooded, their landscaping completely washed away.

      “I’d forgotten you lost trees. They’re pretty close too. You were lucky they didn’t fall on the house.”

      “It was a near miss, actually. The branches at the crown of the biggest one brushed the house.”

      “Scary!”

      He shrugged. “The trees were old and not healthy anymore and probably should have been taken out years ago. They obviously had weak root systems or they wouldn’t have been impacted by the flood.”

      “It could have been much worse, for all of us. And now you have a beautiful view because of it.”

      “I guess that’s the thing about floods and fires and other natural disasters,” he said. “The damage from them can be devastating, but they can also be catalysts for change, offering entirely new perspectives.”

      It was an interesting way to look at things. “That’s true. When I was little, we went to Yellowstone seven or eight years after the huge fires that burned more than a third of the park. I remember being so sad about all the snags of burned trees you could still see but my dad explained that the fires were necessary.”

      “Right. Lodgepole pinecones can’t open and begin to reseed without being exposed to high heat.”

      “It’s fascinating, isn’t it? Certain plants and animals started to thrive only because of the fire and entirely new areas of the park were open to view for the first time in recent history.”

      Maybe the fire in Darwin Twitchell’s barn had been her catalyst for change.