Fires. Ugh.
The photo above was taken at the New Pad during the recent Sand Fire in Santa Clarita. We don’t live anywhere near Santa Clarita, but the smoke and ash from that fire traveled far and wide. It was the middle of the day and yet the sun looked like that of another planet. The smoke was so thick, everything appeared to be the wrong color – birds, leaves, air. It was surreal. Unnatural. I didn’t like it, and again, I wasn’t anywhere near the fire itself.
And now the Blue Cut Fire in the Cajon Pass (between L.A. and Vegas) is out of control. I remember seeing that area from on high when I hiked Mt. San Antonio (Mt. Baldy) several years ago. It was dry then, but it never occurred to me to imagine it on fire. The photos I’ve seen are terrifying and don’t show any of the beauty I recall from that hike.
I know I go on about fires all the time, but I don’t think I can stop. I don’t want to accept this ugliness as run-of-the-mill. I don’t want to get used to it. In short, I just don’t want it. Period.
And yet some folks keep saying there’s no global warming. Jesus.