Inside

7:15 am. Looked out the kitchen window this morning: thick brown sky unlike anything Ive ever seen. When I went out to take some photos I was stunned to see ashes covering everything! Trying to imagine this stuff floating down in the night. Trying to imagine standing outside while this stuff fell. It is thick and some pieces are whole charred leaves. Most is black and grey stuff that crumbles to the touch. Ashes. Not fine as dust, but thickly coating the roofs and sidewalks and plants and cars.

The photo is of the eerie light coming in from the red red disk of the sun. Things have a surreal glow from the smoke.

1:30 pm.  We’ve stayed in so far. Sky is grey. All our windows are shut, but my computer is next to a leaky window and I can smell smoke upstairs. Friends in the mountains have had to evacuate. They arent that far from campus. We have no evacuation plan. I can’t imagine having to pack up the cats and whatever else and leave here. Where would we go? How would we travel? Highway one north is closed. There are fires near Monterey and Salinas to the south, and Vacaville to the north. Sonoma, Napa. There is a heat wave. Covid. 

I can’t find any reports on how things are going with the fire.

We venture out to the farmers market for a few things. Ash is still falling. It smells terrible.

The Extra shows some of the debris on the oak leaf hydrangea out front. It looks as innocent as sawdust from a small repair, but it coats everything and dissolves to the touch.

7 pm.  The problem is that several fires have merged. I don’t think there’s been any containment. Our neighbor says that in the long history of this city, not one fire from the mountains as ever reached town. 

I am trying not to dwell on the fire, on Covid, on the fact that if we had to evacuate I can’t imagine being around other people. How are folks handling being sheltered with others? We were wearing masks for the virus, now for the air quality. It’s getting dark. Pretty soon I won’t be able to look out the window and see the muddy sky, the flakes of ash falling. If I can’t see it, maybe I’ll stop thinking about it. 


My son reminded me of the Serenity Prayer earlier this evening:
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.

I’m not a praying person, and if I say God I’m not really addressing anyone, but God bless us all tonight. Protect those who need it, and guide us through this awful time.