We are in heavy smoke on the South Coast, the sun left us before noon to disappear behind a great blanket of ruddy gray from the Thomas Fire. White falls like snowflakes, except we’re breathing the ashes of other people’s dreams. We aren’t in danger but I can do nothing without turning on the lights and the occasional sky light is rosy orange. Surreal. Weirdly cold. I should be writing an apocalyptic novel but it’s hard to concentrate, so I am doing massive Christmas cookie baking for my neighbors.
Category Archives: natural history
It’s November and I’m working away on my nanowrimo novel, but of course other matters abound and distract. I’ve been involved with political and local issues, digging up and manuring the rows I want to plant lima beans and peas in, starting the cauliflower and broccoli seedlings, transplanting baby leeks… and what turns up? A tiny wonderful bird. I’ve never seen a ruby-crowned kinglet so unmistakably clear before, the brilliant tiny splotch of red like an extravagant punctuation on the back of his elegant head. A fast sketch later and now I need to go out and soak those lima beans for planting.
Here’s the latest from KEYT. Some remarkably beautiful photos here.
No dramatic changes, but I know the drama is all on the ground, in that tedious and dangerous slog towards containment. The Whittier Fire has slowed way down, but some burning occurred on the south side, our side, you might say, of the fire in the past twelve hours. There’s some good in that, because it reduces future fire risk by decreasing available fuel, but it makes us all nervous.
There’s a sundowner in the forecast for tomorrow that has us concerned, because that might bring winds rushing down from the ridge into the populated coastal area.
The day has a color to it and a faint taste. The Whittier Fire has burned over 10,800 acres so far, and the sky is hazed by a strange warm hue. From the detail map it seems that a fierce defense of the two peaks which carry most of our communications may have been successful, but as I noted before if any of you find it difficult to reach family or friends in this area of Southern California, don’t panic– communications may be challenged.
I can only salute the extraordinary fire respondents in all roles, who put themselves in harm’s way to protect the rest of us who go about our daily lives with little more than a feeling of anxiety, refreshed every so often by a look at the alien sky. I think this will be a long fight.
This fire started yesterday on the other side of the great spine of mountains that runs West to East North of Santa Barbara. It sounds confusing to say we live in an area of California North of the Pacific Ocean, but that is true. Geological forces thrust our part of the state out like a bent knee.
The fire has been fast and destructive, causing many folk we know to evacuate. Pyrocumulus above the ridge of mountains has risen and dissipated repeatedly. The Whittier Fire quieted overnight, as wildfires usually do when night temperatures subside, but as this day warms we will see a lot of smoke and ash. I hope no fire responders meet any harm. The fire broached the ridge line once later yesterday– we really want to see it remain on the far side of the mountains if possible. But it’s some of the oldest chaparral around in rough ridged terrain, so time will tell. In an ecological sense it must burn, it’s supposed to burn, and that is the bottom line. However with our possible winds it might cause trouble this side of the peaks. On a nicer note we were woken a little after six by a rain shower– so unexpected it felt like a gift in this dry season of our year. Not enough to matter, except to our spirits!
The photo above, taken from a friend’s front yard, misleads. The sun in the smoke was the color of ripest strawberries.