There were rumors flying around town yesterday that the fire was coming. Someone in town was trying to sign people up for home flame retardant protection, saying that fire was expected here in 36 hours. The fire captain shot down that rumor. (Hey - it's a recession! Guy's got to make a living!) A shopkeeper said the sheriff had told her an evacuation order would probably come through in the next day or two. Well, it's a small town. Rumors are practically legal tender here.
Luckily we have friends in high-information places who told us nothing like that was in the works. YET. Still, they said, the fire had moved from Glendale to Juniper Hills in the course of a few days -- so the idea of it reaching us in Wrightwood was not totally unrealistic. I looked on the California fire map and saw that indeed, the biggest group of devilish-looking flames was the one headed straight for us, with nothing in its way except a near-empty and tinderstick-dry National Forest.
So after enjoying a perfectly-cooked Porterhouse steak (thanks Jay!), I thought it might behoove us to pack up a few things. Sort of a pre-evacuation maneuver. I got out some old empty boxes and put them on the living room floor, then walked around trying to figure out what to take with us.
Right before we left Argentina, I had a dream that we came home and our house had burned down. I walked around the neighborhood, fresh from the airport, still dragging my rolling bag behind me. The homes were nothing more than still-smoldering charcoal. The firefighter who was showing me around was apologetic, But, in my dream, I was relieved. I had everything I needed: Jay, our dog, my laptop, my favorite clothes. The rest was just...stuff. I thought this was a metaphor. What if it was prophecy?
We're currently a one-car family, with a lone Honda Element to carry two people and a dog. We'd have room for a few boxes but not much more. I picked up a few things to take with us. The ashes of our old dog Dewayne. Photo albums. My mom's wedding china from the 60s. A photo of my Silverlake kickball team which featured Vince Vaughn and Noah Wyle before they were famous. Tax documents. Paintings. Scanning shelves, opening cupboards, looking for items that fell within the perfect nexus of Portability, Necessity, Irreplaceability, Sentimental Value and Monetary Value. The nice lawn furniture, the flat-screen TV, books and movies and skis and knick-knacks, a giant ceramic Hello Kitty, all of these would have to stay and take their chances with the fire. Would our Vespa have a better chance of making it if we parked it inside the house? Or could we somehow manage to drive it to...wherever we would go? We looked up dog-friendly hotels in San Diego, away from the smoke. We called friends with vacation homes in Palm Springs.
This morning things seem more hopeful, at least in our location. Someone posted on our local message board, "The fire looks like it's really laying down this morning. It doesn't look like it made it across Littlerock drainage, and it's lightly raining here now...Today looks like a good day for fire fighters."
Let's hope so.
When Mama and Papa Buzzardbilly were in Jacksonville, FL, there was an out-of-control wildfire. There, it's a rarity. In Cali, it seems from the news to be all too frighteningly frequent.
The fire was coming toward their neighborhood. Mama had the boxes packed and ready to go when they got the fire under control within a couple of miles of the house. They pooped their pants too.
I hope and pray you all stay safe.
Posted by: Buzzardbilly | September 04, 2009 at 09:37 PM
so far so good...whew!
Posted by: Joy | September 05, 2009 at 07:07 AM