I Smell Smoke

I was upstairs doing some packing for the move to Idaho when my wife came to tell me that there was smoke on the horizon.  Naturally, being a guy, I was more than ready to dismiss this as no big deal.  "Just calm down" I believe was my less than enthusiastic assessment of the situation.  As it turned out, it was a monumental case of wishful thinking. 

"It may be time to pack the car."

The big big hill to the north of us was sending up black smoke and ash with a smattering of visible orange flame popping skyward at various points.  Never one to plan for these things I waited until the sheriff's department vehicles began cruising the neighborhood admonishing all residents of San Elijo hills to beat it to safety.  Damn!  This happened once before in 2007 and it took all day before we could safely return.  This time I grabbed some underwear, a couple of t-shirts, the computers, I-pads and a few other utterly useless items as we headed for the garage.  Which car to take??  We decided on the big one.  Linda was smart enough to pack intelligently and filled roughly half the trunk with things we might actually need.  

After hours of sitting in traffic as more than one-hundred thousand people evacuated the area, we made camp at the downtown San Diego home of our daughter, Katie, and her husband, Doug.  We are still under their roof having now inflicted ourselves into their lives for three days.  Four year-old grandson, Dan, is thrilled ( I think) to have us aboard for what he no doubt considers a giant family sleep over but we are itching to get home.  

First of all, we hope the house is still there.  I think it must be, but it's impossible to tell.  And, of course, we want to see if there has been any damage.  After thirty-four years in both northern and southern California I can honestly say I don't recall a drier or hotter May.  These fires are the bane of August and September after a moisture sucking summer; never the province of our usual May gray and June gloom.  Coastal low clouds and haze, not to mention some drizzle, happen almost exclusively in late spring.

Chalk this one up to "just one more thing" in a year that promises unusual weather.  Next week I hope to tell you how the house and neighborhood fared.  It would be nice if the heat and the off shore Santa Ana winds got the "JUST CUT IT OUT!" memo.  We've had enough.

In the meantime, I'll be having a gigantic sword fight with my grandson on his family's patio.  All things considered, not a bad way to be a displaced person.

A DC 10 drops a load of fire retardant.