The Fire/Day Nine. Really? Yep.

Mountains, I thought. I can see the mountains! Sure there's some smoke, but it looks good out there.
And, yes the situation is improving if you're not someone whose house has burned down or is still evacuated, BUT the fire is still burning.

The night the fire started a friend in Ojai got the emergency knock on her door at 1:00 a.m. Earlier she'd offered shelter to a friend who was evacuating from Santa Paula. A few days ago other friends who were evacuated from Ojai decided to go to Santa Barbara for a few days to escape the smoke. Then the fire spread and  now that's where the worst pollution is. Or maybe not today. Maybe it all blew down here.

I went to run some errands under this morning's rosy assumption. When I got out of the car at the shoe repair about 5 miles north, I choked. Ash blew into the car. The second errand was a half mile to the east from my house and the air was clear. But my neighborhood looked like this. Smoke goes wherever it wants to.

I'm inside now and I think I'll stay in. There's a big wide world beyond my front door, but I'm not going there.

Yesterday and this morning I pulled 44 pounds of paper out of my filing cabinet and had it shredded. I've dusted all the places I never dust. I've refurbished my emergency backpack, ordered some emergency water with a long shelf life, re-organized my writer's space,  Earlier evenings of the fire, I made dinners for friends, and tonight seems like a good time to do that again. Ratatouiile would be perfect.

The Fire/Day 7 and its Crimson Lining

view from the Channel Islands Visitor Center tower of a smoke plume just beginning to form about 11:00 this morning

view of a big plume--maybe the same one--from my neighborhood 15 minutes later

 Fires make spectacular sunsets. So much destruction and then this beauty.

To the far left is the edge of Santa Cruz Island as the smoke rolls out to meet it

The Fire/Day Five

Things are improved today. The water in the marina is rippling ever so slightly the other way--meaning the wind is shifting, and there's now a whisper of a breeze off the ocean. A couple friends are returning home. A couple are still under evacuation orders. Mind you the fire is still burning. And there are five other fires in Southern California.

The smoke is intense. I'm staying in doors. The masks I ordered from Amazon arrived around noon. For a while today I wore it inside my house. Later this afternoon I was lucky enough to get an air filter installed. What a boon it would be if some agency or another could pass those things out. Some area hotels are offering free rooms or discounts for evacuees.

Yesterday afternoon's smoke cloud arriving .

Today the smoke is everywhere. There is no blue sky. From here on out though, I think things will get better. Thanks for checking in. I'm okay. Breathing easy. 

Fire and Water

View from my living room window last night at 9:30 pm

Santa Paula, a place I love dearly, is burning. The fire has spread to parts of Ojai and Ventura. Last night I could see flames that looked to be two blocks away. With so many other big fires, there was no information to be had. A drive in the windy dark proved that it was farther away than it looked, but not far enough to sleep easily.

Then the power went out. The internet even via cell phone was sketchy. The emergency alert came through on the cellphone. Check the website it said. The emergency website wouldn't load.

I hate trying to sleep in a room that isn't really dark, but last night kept the shades up with one eye on the flames.

Things are okay here chez moi. For now. There's water between me and the fire, but it's worth noting that the water is super super high in the Marina. I'm gonna say that's a good thing. So my personal paradise isn't on fire, but a lot of other people's edens could be mistaken for the gates of hell right now. The wind is howling like a hungry monster. New fires are popping up. Friends have been evacuated. Prayers, please. So many are in danger.

Monday Morning Beach Report

That chalky band of dark blue above the water is residual smoke from the fires.

I'm not in any danger here. It's not blistering hot, but the air-quality even in this paradise is a reminder of the suffering and peril for those battling the flames and the people whose homes and properties are at risk or have already been lost.

Pray for them. Pray for rain, or even just some humidity. Pray that the hot winds turn back to the dessert. Pray for all that and more.

Here's a poem by Ellen Bass--


Pray for Peace

Pray to whomever you kneel down to:
Jesus nailed to his wooden or plastic cross,
his suffering face bent to kiss you,
Buddha still under the bo tree in scorching heat,
Adonai, Allah. Raise your arms to Mary
that she may lay her palm on our brows,
to Shekinah, Queen of Heaven and Earth,
to Inanna in her stripped descent.

Then pray to the bus driver who takes you to work.
On the bus, pray for everyone riding that bus,
for everyone riding buses all over the world.
Drop some silver and pray.

Waiting in line for the movies, for the ATM,
for your latte and croissant, offer your plea.
Make your eating and drinking a supplication.
Make your slicing of carrots a holy act,
each translucent layer of the onion, a deeper prayer.

To Hawk or Wolf, or the Great Whale, pray.
Bow down to terriers and shepherds and Siamese cats.
Fields of artichokes and elegant strawberries.

Make the brushing of your hair
a prayer, every strand its own voice,
singing in the choir on your head.
As you wash your face, the water slipping
through your fingers, a prayer: Water,
softest thing on earth, gentleness
that wears away rock.

Making love, of course, is already prayer.
Skin, and open mouths worshiping that skin,
the fragile cases we are poured into.

If you're hungry, pray. If you're tired.
Pray to Gandhi and Dorothy Day.
Shakespeare. Sappho. Sojourner Truth.

When you walk to your car, to the mailbox,
to the video store, let each step
be a prayer that we all keep our legs,
that we do not blow off anyone else's legs.
Or crush their skulls.
And if you are riding on a bicycle
or a skateboard, in a wheelchair, each revolution
of the wheels a prayer as the earth revolves:
less harm, less harm, less harm.

And as you work, typing with a new manicure,
a tiny palm tree painted on one pearlescent nail,
or delivering soda or drawing good blood
into rubber-capped vials, twirling pizzas --

With each breath in, take in the faith of those
who have believed when belief seemed foolish,
who persevered. With each breath out, cherish.

Pull weeds for peace, turn over in your sleep for peace,
feed the birds, each shiny seed
that spills onto the earth, another second of peace.
Wash your dishes, call your mother, drink wine.

Shovel leaves or snow or trash from your sidewalk.
Make a path. Fold a photo of a dead child
around your Visa card. Scoop your holy water
from the gutter. Gnaw your crust.
Mumble along like a crazy person, stumbling
your prayer through the streets.

Weather Report: Foggy with a High of 72

Yesterday Morning at Hollywood Beach

There are fires to the north. Fires to the east. My patio table is powdered with a fine coating of ash. The signs at the beach warn that there are no lifeguards on duty. Risk is everywhere. We can be shot down in a club, in a school, in a movie theatre, a church. We can be shot because we are black, gay, different, or for no discernible reason. We have a presidential candidate spouting hate speech as regularly as a national park geyser. Our legislative branch is broken. Global warming continues unabated. The rising tide of all these problems might do us in.

Despite it all, it's foggy and cool here. If you're a friend of mine smoldering in L.A. or the San Gabriel Valley, isn't it time for a visit?