Apocalyptic

That sounds overly dramatic, but it is really how it feels. The smoke is palpable, choking. Anyone who has to work outside...the UPS driver, the PG&E lineman, ordinary people walking dogs, are wearing masks or even respirators, which gives the scene an even more eerie look.

We were able to go back to our house today long enough to get the perishable food out of the fridge and freezer. I took this picture from almost the same place at the bottom of our road as yesterday. We could hear helicopters, which was heartening, but couldn't even see them. I contemplated the absurdity of getting buckets of water from Dana's house and putting it on our newly planted plants when there is no way to know if the house will still be standing in a few days.

There have been many opportunities for blips, and many images in my mind...my friend Tobi's ten chickens and her dog Skippy in the car in a 7-11 parking lot, a woman asleep on a dog bed with her dog in a glass walled conference room, dogs roaming the aisles between the cubicles and signs on doors saying, "baby sleeping", patients evacuated from one hospital by pushing their hospital beds down the street against a backdrop of flames, but I couldn't bring myself to violate what little privacy they had.

Nothing is normal, everything that isn't essential is closed, and people are working tirelessly in grocery stores and gas stations, evacuation centers and on the front lines of the fires to try help each other.

I'm very grateful for all your thoughts, prayers and words of support. Most of all I am grateful that we are all safe and to our wonderful friends Kelly and Maureen for letting us stay in their house.We will get through this together.