is across the street from ours.
Well-trained professionals were minutes between alarm and response, and we traded panic for wariness.And then, sadness. Our beautiful open space, the trail system that drew us to this place we now call home, was charred. My friend, colleague, and neighbor Cath had some things to say about it at the time that were much better expressed than I could muster myself.
Mr. O rode the trails as soon as they reopened. He reported back with what we already knew: it was scorched. Where the earth was not blackened, it was tinged red with the fire retardant so blessedly applied to save the homes just below the fire line.
Rains came and washed away the soot and retardant. Cooler weather arrived. Fall color touched the mountainside where the fire had not.
We saw hints of green.
Although it will be years before the scrub oaks again show off their fall colors and the deer have leafy hiding places to which they can dart when we share their trails, there are cycles that are necessary. There is beauty in re-birth that we would not otherwise see.
Mother Nature has a way of providing hope in the bleakest of landscapes.
I'll take it wherever I can get it.