Fires and Winds

The Santa Anas.pdf

When I was in a creative writing class in the '80s in college, I remember reading a collection of short stories written by Joan Didion in Slouching Toward Bethlehem. In one of her stories, she described winds that could actually drive people to madness (and extreme violence).
I never thought much about it since I grew up in apartment buildings and didn't live in areas where 'big winds' were a big thing.
But in Los Angeles, this tiny bungalow owner has experienced this now for the second time after being a valley resident for going on a quarter of a century. The first time was 15 years ago. The winds knocked off fronds from the palm trees and rickety fences that were put up in the 1960s. <SHRUG>. This past week, however, the air had winds that came early on. They blew off cover from cars; covers that were held in place with bricks. They knocked over trees. They displaced trash cans.
They sure worked at stuffing my sinuses something fierce, boy howdy.
Unlike other times when they'd happen during my hours of sleep, this time they hurled against the sides of my home, the roof, and the windows. The sounds pounded and I could hear metal, wood, and heavy plastic banging and clanking while dried leaves circled and danced in the driveway.
And then the fires started.
First one at the ocean. Then another in a second ocean community. Then a larger one appeared some 35 miles east in the mountain areas of Pasadena. And the air had plaster, and splints of wood, and chemical compounds with names we dare not speak. And all of this gunk and crap is being blown hither, thither, and yon. And that is why on a street of homes in a hillside community, one might see a single cottage burned to the ground while others still stand because a random ember was flung on the poor, unsuspecting building and found an energy source (air) to keep it alive and powerful.
My home still stands... untouched.
I've been told to buy bottled water for a while.
What a life.