California Fires, Eerie Skies, 9/11/2020
Stillness. Quiet. Unusual Quiet. It’s dark outside. A pumpkin orange darkness. It shouldn't be dark at 10 am here on our California Coastline in Sonoma County. But it is. Part of me thinks I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and should go back to sleep. The other part of me thinks it must be evening and time for a glass of wine. And yet another part of me wanted to call my children and tell them I love them just in case I never get to see them again.
While the fires are not at our feet right now, the heavy smoke and toxic air have come close to earth now after a record heat wave. Friday we had over 105 in the shade and 115 in Petaluma (unheard of). The rose blooms, flowered and dried on the stem within hours.
In spite of the heat, Saturday we were able to do our first Upick. We staggered guests for a private experience and it went off wonderfully. We’re in the process of moving our farm stand store to the orchard cabin and set it up outside for the day. That suited people best for outdoor social distancing. It was lovely to see the few families picking apples carefully and respectfully. The orchard seemed to enjoy feeling loved and appreciated.
Fast forward to yesterday and today. It really does feel apocalyptic. This is what we need to prepare for. Yet it hits us at so many levels. Not just fires destroying homes, but farms going unpicked due to bad air, to vegetables wilting and produce ruined. There’s a lot more, like water and toxic pollution entering the soil, but let’s leave it at that for now.
The spider is still everywhere I go. Her web gets ruined with the swipe of a hand, yet she simply builds another one. Part of me wants to keep building our web of life here, while another part of me wants to pack up my things and be ready to go. Mobile, moveable.
Instinct has no rationale. Listen to your instinct to move or be quiet. Listen, allow, but don't panic. Many of the birds and animals here at the ranch--sleep, rest and meditate. Thus the eerie silence. The raven pair still check in with me throughout the day and oversee the fields and forest. The quail still sneak into the garden as if unseen. The green heron fledgling can now fly high into the trees and disappear from sight. The kingfisher still yells at his children at the frog pond.