Disco inferno!

So the fires moved away from my house and we never had to evacuate. None of us really got any sleep on Sun but life is getting back to normal. The fires are still raging but have mostly moved away from us. At this point we've unpacked out clothes but the really important documents and photo albums are still in our cars.

Now that the winds are starting to die down, the ash and smoke have gotten worse. This morning my car looked like it was covered in snow. But better ash than having to evacuate.

It amazed me when I was packing. There was so much I was willing to lose. In the crunch, most of it was just stuff. I would be sad to lose my books, my mementos, gifts from special people, but in the end it's not the stuff you save but the life you live.

lesser of evils?

While I was at college in OK, I always declared I'd rather live in CA because the natural disasters there were less drawn out. Tornadoes leave you hanging for hours. You have tornadoes watched, tornado warnings, all day. The tension is horrid. I prefer earthquakes, they come, they go, it's over, we're done.

Well, tonight I'm waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

There are huge fires raging all around southern California, one of them is about a mile from where I am sitting now. They've evacuated the houses down the road, our cars are packed, I've arranged for me and my daughter to go to a friends house if we need to evacuate.

These fires were pretty inevitable. Last year we had less than 5 inches of rain. Driving through the canyons on my way to work I have watched the hills go from green to yellow to brown to gray. Drying up and going brittle in the heat. A month or two ago I drive right past a fire merrily burning in one of the small valleys, firefighters arrived as I drove past, I was close enough to see the flames leaping from tree to tree.

Things like this make me wonder if perhaps we aren't doing ourselves a disfavor by allowing brush to grow so thick. Maybe we would be better off letting small fires burn more frequently, like they do in the forests, to clear the dead growth and thin the underbrush. Maybe we shouldn't build houses so close to shore, especially in areas known for hurricanes.

Why do we insist on building our homes in areas we know are prone to natural disasters? Some are inevitable, no-one would live on the west coast if were all scared of earthquakes. But I can't help but think of all the heartache we could save ourselves if we just chose not to live in places like New Orleans. Maybe it's in my nature. I don't like confrontation with people, why would I like confrontation with nature?

But here I sit. I know I won't get much sleep tonight, waiting for the sirens, the knock on the door telling us to evacuate. At least my daughter is oblivious. She thought it was great fun to pick out her 5 favorite movies and toys and books while we ran around throwing things in our cars, just in case. Her school will be closed tomorrow. This fire means nothing to her but an extra day at home to play with Grandma. I'll be heading off to work, but not on the usual roads. The toll road I drive to work is closed. The fire literally leaped across it. Depending on how bad it is tomorrow, I may not stay the whole day. It just depends on how busy we are and how it looks down here.

And so I wait. And wait. And wait.