Hot Snow

It's well over 100 degrees today and breezy. A perfect day for a fire. Today was Costco day and when I came out of the store, the air was smoky and ashes were falling like snow. Just another typical summer day.

It reminded me of another day several years ago when I lived in another house about a mile from my present house. It was, at the time, on the edge of civilization. The area has since been developed, but back then, my house was at the edge of miles of brush covered hills. Like so many days, I smelled smoke. Off in the distance, a small fire was burning. I wasn't too concerned because the water dropping helicopters were already working on it. The Fire Department is so good at what they do, I was sure that it would be put out quickly.

Throughout the morning, I would occasionally check on the fire. With increasing anxiety, I watched the fire grow in size. The plume of smoke had turned black, sometimes flames shot up into the sky, and the water drops couldn't keep up with with the rapidly spreading fire. The wind was blowing it directly towards my house.

I was starting to think about what items I should try to save. Trying not to panic, I filled my car with photo albums, important documents and my jewelry. Everything else, I figured, could be replaced.

A Sheriff's car drove slowly down the street with its loudspeakers blaring that we needed to prepare to evacuate. I untangled the hoses and spread them out, got out the ladder and put an assortment of shovels around the yard in case the water pressure dropped. I wanted to leave, but I knew that if I did, my husband would kill me. He was adamant about his belief that the people who evacuate are the ones who lose their homes. The people who stay and fight are able to save their homes. I was of the opinion that the people who stayed were likely to be killed. My opinion didn't matter. I was going to have to stay and fight.

Suddenly, the sky went dark as we were engulfed in black smoke. It looked like nighttime, except for an eerie reddish glow lighting the sky. The wind was howling and ashes were falling like snow. At more than 100 degrees, I imagined that this is what Hell must look like. Trying not to cry, I called my husband at work and asked him to come home. Alarmed, he said that he would leave now.

I moved my car out to the street to make sure that I didn't get blocked in. I was still preparing to flee even though I knew that I couldn't leave. Fire trucks were parked at the bottom of our hill waiting. News reporters were starting to arrive and were taking pictures of the evacuations.

Suddenly, the fire appeared at the top of the ridge across the street from my house. I could feel the heat from 100 feet away, hear the crackling sounds and saw burning embers flying through the sky past me. That was it. I was leaving.

I ran with the dogs out to the car and drove off. We drove over to the other side of the hill and I saw that the fire had already burned there. There being nothing left to burn, it seemed to be a fairly safe place to stop and leave the dogs. Fearing my husband's wrath, I parked the car and ran back over the hill to check on the house. The street trees were on fire, but so far the house was still okay. Worried about the dogs, I ran back to check on them. I ran back and forth between the house and dogs every couple of minutes for I don't know how long.

Finally, my husband arrived. He had been stuck in traffic and been delayed by a roadblock. Not even residents were being allowed in, so he flashed his prosecutor's badge and drove through the roadblock. No one came after him.

He drove past sections of burning brush on the hill up to our house and didn't know what he was going to find as he came around the bend. Fortunately, our house was safe and I was at my post when he arrived. The fire across the street was starting to die down, so I ran back and got the dogs and brought them home. Another day in paradise.