Fire!

Here's a note I sent to a friend this afternoon in response to his inquiry about some wicked, vicious, venomous wildfires sweeping through my area . . . where I live . . .  where all of my shit is  . . . .

Fire:   The occurrence, often accidental, of fire in a certain place, causing damage and danger.

Lost power about 10 PM last night.  Figured it was because of the strong, very dry Santa Anna winds that blow hot from east to west this time of year, supplanting our normal ocean breezes.  Powered off my Kindle and walked outside to silence an escaping garbage can - the sky behind my house, to the north, was lit up with a fiery red glow like it was Las Vegas, thick plumes, evil tendrils of black smoke trailing over my house.  It was like a scene from Apocalypse Now, complete with sound effects from the choppers going back and forth at low altitude, dropping water on hot spots.  No TV, no internet, no way to get updates.  It was a profoundly uncomfortable night.  I don't know how I fell asleep but I do know I woke up a few times to peek tentatively out the window to see if the glow was marching my way.

Today the fire is walking along the Topa Topa mountain slopes, currently moving away from our dwelling.  The homes on the slopes are typical SoCal mansions, up there to catch the nice ocean breeze and see the sea.  The struggle isn't with burning vegetation but with an ember from a being flung fifty yards from a conflagration and landing on someone else's roof.  It isn't at all unusual to see homes with no damage next to homes burned to the ground.  I never understood how this happened, figuring fires would systematically mow down a row of houses.  It's weird seeing the fire personnel, in the bright sunshine, in calm looking neighborhoods devoid of people, watching a nice house fully engulfed, choosing to let it go and try to protect the house right next door.  There was lawn furniture sitting on a patio while the burning house fucking burned.  I half expected someone to walk outside with a glass of iced tea and a book.

Hopeful the winds don't shift back our way.  We have some idea what we'd toss in the car if they make us evacuate.  Reminds me of the few tornadoes I've lived through - front yards with nary a leaf out of place, rubble across the street.  Also reminds me of the tragedy that was 9/11 - this disconnected sense of out-of-place, looking at something and trying to make sense of it, trying to connect vision with understanding.  My eyes are seeing but my brain isn't computing.  Most traumatic things - a fall, a car wreck, dropping a glass - are a quick, decisive event.

Night is falling and it gets scarier.  No red skies at the moment and the winds are calmer.  I went next door and got a pep talk from our lifetime-residence neighbors.  They're a lot more even-tempered than I am at the moment.  They did say that - when they woke up in the middle of the night and joined all of our neighbors walking around with flashlights - they couldn't believe we were asleep.

"Those Seaweeds can sleep through anything." 

Weird scenes inside the gold mine.