This week finds me in California. Mack and I piled into my car. I gave him the whole back seat. Apparently, he sleeps best upside down, on the floor, in a ball. Not the position would I would have guessed, but if it makes him happy. . . He did quite well traveling the near 500 miles to get here.
This is an emotionally trip. I knew that going in. Usually emotionally trips have an event tied to them – weddings, funerals… the closest thing to an event this time is that I was able to see my mom, grandma, brother and sister-in-law since Covid, and my childhood neighborhood post-fire. Big things. Important things. Emotional moments.
My first cry was leaving my grandmas. How fortunate to hug her.
My first gasp was coming up Felton Empire, a steep, twisty mountainous road. The road leads from the valley floor to the ridgeline. Normally it is a magical drive of the tall brown redwood trunks with bright green sorrel carpeting the forest floor. The ash is long gone, but the green is barely back. And everywhere there was tan oak – just burnt leaves. The drive the rest of the way alternated between green “normalcy” and then brown post-fire.
On a walk through the neighborhood, I came across a tree guy’s firewood pile. The burnt edge of every log in the pile was striking. I have seen firewood stacks my whole life. Never like this.
Next week a separate adventure awaits. I also will be off-grid a few days so my blog will be delayed, but I am still keeping up with my once-a-week for this year blog commitment. It helps me process what is going on, order my thoughts, and realize what I have or haven’t done.
The hope is that between this week and next I will have enough fodder to really dive deep into my series about living with forest fires.