The New Watson Zoo: June 29: History annihilated

100's of Pictures of the Same Destruction

The remains of next to nothing, all of it unusable, untouchable without a tetanus shot and work boots.

The house was a pile of rusty looking nails and layers of ash.

There was no house. There was no garage.

The camper stood strong, but melted tires, dripping lights, and missing trim told the story of the heat.

Devastated eyes peer slowly, slower, slower,

as time freezes in this moment of absolute defeat.

Every slight visual change, every reframing of the picture before us deepens the hole in our hearts.

The enormity of this massive natural event was apparent,

as the mountain we called home was noticeably

sunnier, more open, and normally quiet.

Except for the tall, standing, charred remains,

there was little to block the panoramic view.

A burnscape.

**********

Thank your god that no person bares responsibility.

This was a natural, probably necessary event.

We choose to live in a mountain area,

much like others live near oceans, lakes, plains, or cities.

The unknowing during the lengthy evacuation,

as we lived "on the lamb",

was difficult, exhausting emotionally and mentally.

We were fortunate to have many great friends to house sit for over the summer!

As hurricane winds hit the cold east coast last fall,

we realized how lucky we were that friends kept us sheltered, fed,
and comfortable during the fire.
We are alive and we will survive.

From this shocking experience, there has also come good.

The good things are related:

Community support that has not stopped,
the coming together of friends and neighbors who may never have met before this,
and a new network of cohesion to be better prepared together in the future.

There will be more fires with more evacuations.

Sooner than later I imagine.

We are now empowered by experience.

*****

Our personal photos are below.
These were taken that first evening as the sun dimmed.
Ryan thought to try the pop-up camper and it rose without incident to offer shelter.
We climbed in for the night, only slightly prepared for what the hot AM sun would reveal.
We still held hope that our 2 lost cats might appear over the burned horizon.
I fell sleep crying out for them and awoke doing the same.
My heart still cries out for them.

So this is one therapy for me to work through the variety of emotions I experience daily.

We need our friends and neighbors, our temporary town neighbors, and our many long distance friends to help continue to heal.

We hope to also be here for others as needs arise.

Thanks for listening.