Pink Prickly Pear

Pineapples aren't supposed to wave.

Yesterday, mini-pear and I stopped in at this little gourmet grocery store down the road from us.  I've been on a Nutella quest and this was the last local possibility.

I found my Nutella ($4.50 for the smallest possible jar), resisted the $10 jar of strawberry rhubarb jam, and decided to pick up some greens.  As I stood looking at the produce, the whole refrigerated unit appeared to roll in a slow undulating wave towards me.  My first thought was that I was going to pass out, a thought confirmed (in my mind) when my knees sort of buckled. 

"Mini...I think I'm going to faint..." as I reached out to steady myself.  The softly waving unit shuddered and rattled under my touch.  Behind me jars of salad dressing crashed to the ground and shattered.  The butcher's voice rang out loudly, "We're having an earthquake!"  He hardly got his sentence out, and all was still again.  And that was that.

Wet clean ups in every aisle.  I looked at the shelves supporting the produce, amazed they hadn't cracked or anything.  There was a mild buzz of chatter, as the few employees and customers shared comments on what they'd just felt.  Mini-pear hadn't noticed a thing.

We've periodically felt very mild tremors at night, so I didn't think much more of it.  Only later on did I realize this was part of the quake originating up near LA. 

Methinks someone lost a bet.

I hardly ever think to have my camera handy at the beach.  But this afternoon, something made me grab a zip-lock bag and pop my old point-and-shoot in there.

So there I was, sitting in my beach chair, minding my own business and this man walking along the shore caught my eye (actually, several did, but this guy wasn't one of those buff young men with surf boards in tow).  I squinted.  Craned my neck a little.  Double checked with Mr. Pear, "Hey, has that man shaved his chest hair into a bikini top?"

Why yes he had, as you can see from our surreptitiously gathered photographic evidence below.  Ignore my goofy face.  I thought Mr. Pear was only using me as a prop to get closer to our subject.

Right?  I know body hair comes in all shapes and sizes, but that's manicured in some fashion, no?

It was not a particularly relaxed weekend, but hey!  I'm up earlier than usual this morning and I'm not even tired.

On Saturday I spent a few hours at an acquaintance's farm, painting the trunks of their avocado trees.  Their home burned to the ground in the recent fires and the damage to their orchards is yet to be determined.  The bark of the avocado tree is very photo-sensitive.  The lush green foliage that usually protects it was burned off in the fire, hence the need for painting the bark a bright sun-reflecting white.  I'd hoped to assist with laying a new irrigation system - something I haven't done before, but would like to learn more about - but I arrived late and the poor scorched trees were clearly in need of assistance, so I didn't get to make my lewd jokes about laying pipe with my fellow volunteers.  Climbing the steep hillside with a sloshing bucket was difficult work, but the painting itself was quite peaceful.  Even with the sounds of repair crews' chainsaws and earth movers carrying across the valley, I felt a sense of calm in the orchard. 

The drive to and from the farm was depressing.  The route past Lake Hodges is one we make fairly often.  The first time I drove out that way, to meet up with some friends at a park, I was so blown away by the landscape, I think I took Mr. Pear out there to take a look at it the very next day.  Huge steep hillsides with boulders the size of buses, or even houses, on one side of the lake and on the other, even steeper hillsides completely covered with greenery.  I often wondered what kind of greenery as it was so lush, it could either have been the tops of towering evergreens or low growing shrubs.  There simply isn't any human footprint on that side of the lake to get a true sense of scale.  All of the green, acres and acres of it, is completely gone.  These hillsides will recover, but other areas of the county, burned in wildfires 4 years ago and then re-burned this past month, may not.  The term being bandied about here is desertification on a grand scale.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

Actually that's ash swirling around - I think Mr. Pear took the photo on the left Monday afternoon.  The skies in our area are much clearer today, in part due to the wind being on our side.  The photo on the right is Mr. Pear sweeping the ash off the patio prior to hosing it down this morning.  We let the dog in and out of that back door, and keeping whatever is in the ash out of the house is a priority.

We're fine, although active burning has come pretty close - about 5 miles.  Our main issue is air quality - all our windows and doors remain closed.  Mini-pear and I just drove the Mr. to work and stopped at the grocery store.  We wore our air masks and kept the windows closed, but my eyes and throat are feeling even that very limited exposure.

The closest fire to us is the biggest - the Witch fire.  Unfortunately, that fire has merged with another one (the Poomacha fire) and there are fires to the northeast of us that continue to push down towards us - although they are much further away than the Witch. 

This has been an odd experience.  The wind in our area has completely died down over the last day, yet we know from radio/internet reports that they are still wreaking havoc elsewhere and making the fires difficult to contain.  The skies over my neighborhood are hazy blue this morning.  If I didn't have access to the media, I'd think it was all over.  Part of me feels relief that we've stayed in our own home for the majority of this (Monday we de-camped to Mr. Pear's office, just to be closer to the ocean and evacuation routes) and that the winds have pushed the fire elsewhere.  Still, it's hard to focus on anything but the fire. 

It's strange to remain glued to internet and radio reports for the third day in a row - to be this far into a totally upside down week and know that the uncertainty is far from over.  Last night I still set my alarm to wake me up every couple of hours so I could monitor the fires from the comfort of my living room.  Our bags are still packed just in case the winds shift or other factors redirect the fires back in our direction.

Thanks for your emails and text messages and phone calls.  We are going to be just fine;)

Wildfire

The view from our front door this morning.  There are 8 wildfires burning out of control in San Diego county.  The mandatory evacuations are very close.  The Santa Ana winds are not helping.

There's ash all over the patio and it smells like mesquite barbecue in here.