Fire

lightening

Very early Saturday morning I felt Ruby lick my hand as I slept. “What is it, Ru?” No response. I drifted back into sleep. Again I felt a light lick on my hand. “You’re going outside,” I said. “Come on, Conner. Go outside with Ruby.” They jumped off the bed and made their way to the door leading to the garden and out they went. I went back towards the kitchen and bam! I heard them both leaping against the back door. How strange. I opened it and they raced in. Framing their scurrying bodies was a blinding flash of light across the western sky. Half asleep I struggled to understand what I was witnessing. Full recognition dawned on me as the flash was followed immediately by a brilliant jagged lightening bolt making its way to the ground from high in the night sky. Oh dear God. “By the grace of God there will be no fires, ” I said aloud. And then I stood transfixed watching the stupendous beauty that repeated itself over and over again. I watched in utter fascinating and thrill even while I knew in my heart of hearts this spelled Trouble for the county. And trouble for the county arrived. Over 6,000 lightening bolts struck the Earth, our earth, our Northern California earth, that night. And more thunderstorms are predicted for Friday night, Saturday night and Sunday night. There are currently 1,026 fires burning in my beloved Northern California, 10% of them right here in Mendocino. There were more. Nearly all are not being tended. Only those threatening life and human limb and home are being fought. The rest, quite naturally, and probably in the long run, healthily, are being left to find their way to extinction. The man power is stretched thin. The equipment is scarce. Resources are being used the best way they can think at the moment. Here’s what the northern half of our state looks like today:
N. CA fires

I, and my garden are down there in the midst of that, thriving. Really.

Being a thoughtful girl, I am challenged to watch my thoughts, ascertain where they are coming from. Distinguish which ones are worthy thoughts and should be honored and acted upon. Buy hepafilters. Two. Buy a hepafilter mask. One. Buy extra water. Make note of the dog crate and extra bag of dogfood in the car. Take out the cat carriers and have them ready. What do I cherish that would need to accompany me should it come to that? What, indeed?

The jays are on their own. No clean air for them, poor things. No clean air for my pet lizard who has kept me company in the front garden all spring. But this afternoon out he came, from under the lavender where he continues to choose to live, to sunbathe, there in the haze. Life goes on. And he’s bigger! Life and growth go on. The tomatoes are bearing seven tomatoes. Large orange flowers bloom from the zucchini and pumpkins and spaghetti squash. Nothing stops or hesitates in the face of danger. Only I cogitate.

I settle for making a mental list of all I am grateful for. I’m not out in the boonies. We are safe now. The gas tank is full and ready. There are friends nearby making it clear I would be welcome there should it come to that. Would it come to that?

The only moment is this one. This precious one when I’m writing to all of you, grateful for your readership, for your showing up again and again. For your kind words and encouragement. For your laughing at my humor. For visiting with me on the journeys I take close and closer. Far and farther.

Thank you.

Love and gardening blessings,
Kathryn xoxo

26 Responses to “Fire”

  1. Hi, Joey, It’s a process, and I probably won’t be able to make total sense of the process until I’m on the other side of it. You know? Meanwhile I maintain my normal rhythms and pay attention and stay grateful that this is temporary and will undoubtedly yield more stories and learning. Thanks for visiting. Love, Kathryn xox

  2. Well Kathyrn, I got more than I expected visiting you today!

    I can completely understand why a posting on cool green leaves would be the furthest thing from your mind when when you are looking at hot dry and burning ones. This is where our gardens and lives across the world really show how different our climates are.

    Sending best wishes from Scotland where I couldn’t even begin to imagine where you are now. My thoughts are with you, your family the emergency workers putting out the fires. They are also with all the birds and wildlife that are in danger too.

    Wishing you a good weekend is a bit weak. Stay safe ๐Ÿ™‚

  3. Hi, Shirl–Thank you for visiting. Yes, it’s a bit surrealistic, frankly. And safety is high on the list. And, yes, my heart goes out to the wildlife and if you want to put out special prayers, there are three stands of ancient old-growth redwoods not far from here needing special protection. And here I am in the midst of it taking photos of zucchini blossoms full of bumblebees, its having dawned on me that haze is a bit like low light. Life does go on. I’m witnessing it. Now if someone would just convince the Border Collies that now is not a good time to “go swimming”! ๐Ÿ™‚ Kathryn, who is going to go make some nice scones. Really. ๐Ÿ™‚

  4. Goodness, glad you’re ok and hoping you and your family stay safe. I can only imagine how worrying it must all be but you write with such beauty and grace.

    Wishing you well. xx

  5. Oh, Mrs. Be, you are so kind to say so. Thank you for your concern. It is looking like we will most likely not be getting more lightening (20% chance), so that would be a huge blessing. It’s simply a stay indoors time, for folks like myself. Bake those scones! Write to dear bloggers. Read Southern novels, always a good pastime. Keep everything watered down. Thanks for the visit. ๐Ÿ™‚ Kathryn xox

  6. Great pictures!

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