Friday, October 26, 2007

I Want to Bake Everyone Cookies

I began blogging over a year ago as a means of keeping accountable with my writing. I needed a place where, if I didn't write, I wouldn't have an audience, and since I knew I needed an audience to keep writing, I had to keep writing. (Circular reasoning I know, but it worked for me.) I needed to write in the first place because I teach writing, and I'm a firm believer that one must do to teach.

An unexpected byproduct of blogging has been discovering the worldwide community of kind, thoughtful people in which I have found myself. I've made friends through this writing experiment, friends who have checked in on me in the last week to make sure I'm okay.

I am okay. Thank you so much for checking. You've gladdened my heart in many ways for thinking about my well-being, even from so far away. I wish I could bake each of you a dozen cookies, your favorite variety.

I live in an area of Southern California that has not been directly threatened by fires this past week. Fires circled Los Angeles to the north, east, and south, but the central basin and its immediate suburbs are, for the most part, intact and not on fire. Evidence from the fires is everywhere though: soot has settled on the blue broccoli leaves, everything smells burnt, and our mountains, the landforms that serve as a compass to us all, are smudged with smoke.

At first I thought this week's sunrises and sunsets were disturbingly beautifully in the midst of all the destruction that encircles us here in the LA area. They seemed wrong--insensitive and mocking.

As this week progressed, my opinion of the skies changed. They don't mock; instead, they remind us how much we don't control. They also remind us that we need to take care of them, for on them we rely. I hope these fires and these skies serve as instigators for widespread change in our attitudes towards the world in which we live.

Tomorrow's forecast is hopeful: cloudy skies and gentle sprinkles.


Lucy said...

It's an awesome sight, the sky, during bushfire season. The year before I left Sydney I swam at my favourite beach, a city one, and was showered one afternoon with embers from huge fires that encircled the whole city. It was terrifying, but I've never seen the sun so amazingly red. Last year fires burnt much of Victoria too. They say this year will be worse.

The smell, coupled with the heat, is the worst. WE, down here, should have listened to our native people. Alas, I fear it's nearly too late.

Anyhoo, so pleased you are fine. May your skies be cloudy and full of rain. And I'll put in a little order for anything chocolate chip and/or ginger:)

Wendy said...

So very glad you and your garden are unaffected. Frightening times. The sky pictures are stunning though and I can understand how you feel about them.
When I lived in Japan a nearby volcano erupted and showered us with ash. It was like a Christmas with the colour taken out: everything covered in a thick snowy layer of grey.

Susan said...

And it's rained here in NY for days and days, and is still coming down in sheets. We are hardly the ones who need it. I did not write to you, Christina, because I knew Pasadena was not in direct harm's way; I had plenty of interactive maps to consult.

I'm sorry your garden is sooted and landscape smudged, but the Earth over time will endure and renew, and that is something we have to look forward to.

winedeb said...

We do have to respect Mother Nature no matter what she deals us. She always rewards us though, as in your garden, she is really showering you with love.
It is amazing the beauty that comes after destruction. I have been through several hurricanes here in Key West and the skies always amaze me with their colors and cloud formations after the storm. Glad to hear you are safe and so cool to see your garden thriving:)