Word Winding

attempting to spin cacophony into sanity

Valley Fire

Two weeks before the fires, we were there.

We drove on twisting roads through forests, past farms and vineyards and tiny towns. Homes for the humans and their animals, and for the wild ones roaming free.

Those things are gone.

The best caramel swirl ice cream I have ever experienced, in a little shop with a charming set of hand drums cobbled together somehow and attached to a single stand.

Those things are gone.

We bathed in beautiful springs sheltered by gigantic fig trees, splurged and slept in a fairy cabin like it was our honeymoon and not “just” our eighth anniversary. Yoga in a temple the spiral dance could call home. Full moon circle under rippling cloudy skies.

The springs remain. The skies remain. The native plants and fungi in their fire wisdom are still anchored deep, holding the land with healing fingers.

Everything else is gone.

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