Red sky at night
Aug. 19th, 2001 04:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphBut no sailor's delight. The fire in Lake County has sent a long plume of smoke across the Sacramento valley and into the Sierra. Last evening, I looked out my window and saw the sun settling into it; a huge orange ball, and the sky around it various shades of purple, like a vast bruise.
It reminded me of a fire in the San Gabriel Mountains, many years ago. It was several fires, all at once, actually. Ash fell over my neighborhood, ten miles away. I caught in my hand a falling leaf, small, perfectly preserved, reduced to fragile ash. It was like the ghost of a leaf, and it crumbled to a fine, oily powder when I touched it.
There were other, more disturbing bits of ash. One was a tuft of fur, probably from a squirrel. Another was the pin feather of some unlucky bird. Every line was exactly as it had been before it was carbonized, but it broke in half when it landed in my hand.
That night, as the smoke hovered low over the entire valley, the light of the fires was reflected from the bottom of the cloud, giving the city an apocalyptic glow. After a few days, the fires were put out, the ash disintegrated, the evidence of annihilation removed from our daily lives. But now, living in this forest, each time I smell smoke, I recall that leaf, that bit of fur, that feather. I see them settling down from the choked sky toward the inevitable earth.
It reminded me of a fire in the San Gabriel Mountains, many years ago. It was several fires, all at once, actually. Ash fell over my neighborhood, ten miles away. I caught in my hand a falling leaf, small, perfectly preserved, reduced to fragile ash. It was like the ghost of a leaf, and it crumbled to a fine, oily powder when I touched it.
There were other, more disturbing bits of ash. One was a tuft of fur, probably from a squirrel. Another was the pin feather of some unlucky bird. Every line was exactly as it had been before it was carbonized, but it broke in half when it landed in my hand.
That night, as the smoke hovered low over the entire valley, the light of the fires was reflected from the bottom of the cloud, giving the city an apocalyptic glow. After a few days, the fires were put out, the ash disintegrated, the evidence of annihilation removed from our daily lives. But now, living in this forest, each time I smell smoke, I recall that leaf, that bit of fur, that feather. I see them settling down from the choked sky toward the inevitable earth.
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no subject
Date: 2001-08-19 01:00 pm (UTC)I keep thinking of the photo I saw a while back of a deer standing in a burning forest.
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Date: 2001-08-19 06:28 pm (UTC)I spend a lot of time worrying about the animals who live around this town. Sharing their habitat with so many humans puts them at more risk than they would have in the wilder lands. But it is nice to see deer walking down the street, taking time out to munch the roses.