Finding myself in such a tense moment, I saw immediately that the
left and right sides of the ridge had to continue to be watered. The
shrub in the middle was weak anyway, and we let that go. My adrenaline
was increasing, but it went tandem with the moment. Holding the line,
hoping to delay the sparks.
Then I woke up.
Last weekend, I was 35 miles from fire destruction moving at an
unrelenting pace. 35 miles wasn't shit. We were all stuck inside (lest
you think you're some big timer who could go out for lunch and set
aside your headache, eyes watering, awful throat, and depression). 35
miles and for all I knew I was surrounded by webers full of pall malls.
Thanks to the firefighters, it was a slow fade to Sunday night, which
was deemed "tolerable" and colder nights, which "help" insomuch it's not
80 degrees at that time.
And true, this isn't the first rodeo; in 2003 the fire in San Diego blew
up here and made a run of fall days look like a permanent 5PM. Even
last year, I opined that the Verdugo mountain fires had no way of
hitting my domicile because it would have to cross a freeway, train
track, and "river" to get over here and...
Oh, fires can do that? Well color me a fucking simpleton for being so
caviler to think I could out-smart the beast. The very definition of
dumb luck, there's now talk of "here are the masks" and "this looks like
a good indoor air purifier and ionizer" without a trace of irony or
what-are-the-odds inflection.
I've lived here long enough to see the changes. Santa Ana winds were
expected in the fall. Now they're more of a year-round intruder. The
winds could bring a possibility of a wildfire. Now we know there will
be one, just a matter of location and size. We used to have a rainy
season, without fail. Now some years it rains, but most are barely
moist. Rain used to be met with gritted teeth knowing your drive. Now
there's dancing in the streets. Holy shit, it's raining!
The hurricane, the snowstorm, the tornado, it arrives, it devastates, it leaves. The wildfire? It isn't leaving.
