It's named THE RIVER WAR HAUS. I gave it the fitting title many months ago.
I suppose it's silly to name your abode, the land you work, and the place you call home. I did it anyway.
We fought the government to protect property rights, to stop the declining natural environment, and to preserve the riparian areas near the river as well as the MIGHTY RIVER itself. Add to that a fight to keep the original paperwork in force as written in 1964 when it was drafted and signed by original parties...and have the Game and Fish enforce it's paragraphs as they are required. This war went on for 6 years. We lost.
My marriage fell apart over time, slowly. Not slow enough that I couldn't have seen it coming. Perhaps the red flags went up and I tried to ignore it. In time it became a battle of things I can't even explain now. The battle wounds still show and are beginning to scar over. I can't look back. I'm not sure if one ever wins a battle involving marriage. Somehow, it just doesn't seem proper to tag it with victory or loss. Failed marriages are always a loss of some sort. Is a battle ever a victory? We call it that. When our side wins. But is it really so?
They say we often have to go to battle to get ahead, to forge forward, to make things right. We have to sacrifice for the greater good. Fight for our cause, our lives, our beliefs...
Another such war has begun.
This time..it's me versus the river. Tonight I placed my mark. The river pushes forward. I build walls and hold it back. Divert. Clean up. Pray. I think I'm going to win this war this time because I have God on my side.
The river might want to invoke it's right to parley...
No...Momma Fargo hasn't lost it.
She's just not going to let the bastard (river) get the house... just like the first time.