Hard to Think

It’s hard to think about anything other than the fires right now, especially the one north of us in Butte County. The devastation and loss of life are horrific. And due to a strange weather pattern called ‘inversion,’ the smoke is just hanging in the atmosphere. Our local air has been in the ‘unhealthy’ or ‘very unhealthy’ range for a week now. I’ve read reports that it’s like smoking a half a pack a day. We all feel it - sore throats, weepy eyes, chest congestion, coughing, runny noses. All the local schools have been cancelled, and people walk around with masks on. I bought my first case of masks (N95) to have here at the house, since smoky conditions seem to be getting more common in California.

I work one day a week at my school as an intern. I’ve mostly been doing transplanting of all the cuttings that other students start in propagation classes. They need to be looked after, because they will be put out for our spring plant sale. Some have been quite interesting to work on, like sugar cane (a story for another time). I work with a young woman who is a fairly recent immigrant from China. Her work ethic astounds me - she has an art history degree from UC Berkeley, but she isn’t having any luck finding a job in that field, so she is working full time at the San Francisco airport, plus taking classes in Horticulture at Merritt, plus doing this internship. She even helps support her family and is still somehow cheerful and happy at work. I have to say, this so-called ‘laziness’ that people talk about with millennials? I just don’t see it. What I do see is young people working hard in a ‘gig’ economy, trying to make ends meet. Tom sees that same ethic in his students at City College. These young people do not have the same advantages we had and work harder than we did.

I digress. What I wanted to say was that this young woman I work with has lots of questions. It’s always very interesting to see what she’ll ask me next. Sometimes she asks me about American holidays and how we celebrate them (she’s cooking a turkey this year for Thanksgiving and is so excited!). We’ve talked about the ‘Green Revolution,’ and how to bring up children, and the difference in education in China and America. Yesterday we talked about the fire a lot, as the greenhouse in which we were working was filled with smoke and it was hard to breathe and concentrate (school was finally cancelled in the middle of my class today). And she asked me, what causes these huge fires? Is it really just because the forest hasn’t been thinned out enough? In other words, is Trump right and it’s all about managing forests?

Mid-day. Usually there is a large mountain right there ahead of me.

What a great question, and you know what I admire? Someone who isn’t afraid to ask questions. I love that. I wish we were all better about being curious and willing to be taught. None of us knows everything. I do believe that if our government (both sides) was more willing to ask questions, we might actually get somewhere. I am so guilty of this too. Someone in my family expressed a view I didn’t agree with right before the election, and instead of asking why they felt that way, I just shut down the conversation. I regret that. It’s just my own fear getting in the way.

Ok, that was another digression, sorry. My co-worker’s question opened up a really interesting conversation which made us explore all the reasons that these fires become as destructive as they do. And I thought I’d share it with you, because there is a lot of false information out there. We probably didn’t think of everything, so if you have something to add, please share it in the comments.

Perhaps the most important issue is where people are choosing to live. More and more folks are moving to the Urban Wildland Interface, which is a zone of transition between unoccupied land and human development. The US Forest Service defines it as a place where “humans and their development meet or intermix with wildland fuel.” Right off the bat, you can see where this could be a huge problem. These areas are basically wild, and as such, have their growth controlled by fire. Fire is a natural thing for these forests, and it is what has kept them in check for millions of years. With people now living in these areas, fire is not allowed to come through as it normally would, and that causes brush and dead material to build up. These communities are often built with one road going in and out, to minimize disturbance from more people. Living in the woods sounds like an excellent proposition, but when you realize that it’s all combustible fuel combined with choked transport roads, it’s a disaster.

The next consideration is climate change. Due to just a slight elevation in daytime (and nighttime) temperatures, plants behave differently. You may remember from your high school biology that plants transpire - that is, lose water from their leaves. Water is pulled up from the soil, in to the roots of the plant, and then throughout the plant, and then out through the stoma (small openings on the underside of leaves) and into the air. Transpiration is what drives the water cycle through the entire plant. More heat = more transpiration. All this vegetation is extremely dry to begin with, this time of year, and the rise in temperature is making it even drier.

Also due to climate change, our rainy ‘season’ is compressing. Where we used to get rain from November to April, now we get rain in January and February (or at least most of it). That means the soil is saturated from this quick deluge, and a lot of water runs off rather than soaking in and making a difference later in the year, when the plant really needs it (those higher temperatures again).

Another factor is wind. When the mountains to the east of us (the Sierra Nevada) begin to cool down in the fall, they are cooling faster than our coast, and that acts as a sort of vacuum and causes air from east of the ranges to blow very hot and fast towards our coast. These are called the Diablo winds in Northern California, and the Santa Ana winds in Southern California. Wind was certainly a part of this fire event, with gusts up to 70 miles an hour on our peaks for days on end.

Something that is very strange about this event is that it happened this late in the year. We’ve still had hot days, yes, but our nights have gotten very cool, in many cases down in to the 30’s. This usually suppresses fire. But our plants and trees are SO dry after a very hot summer, and our rain is so late, and the wind was so gusty, that the cool temperatures aren’t making a difference this time. It’s particularly hard on the thousands and thousands of folks that have lost their homes, because they are sleeping in tents and cars. It is also strange to be cold and smoky here in the Bay Area. We are used to being hot and smoky. So, as I heard a climate scientist say on the news this morning, there is no ‘normal.’ You can’t even call it the ‘new’ normal because it could all change in an instant.

Forest management is certainly an issue, though as we have seen, it is not the only issue. According to the US Forest Service: “Federal lands comprise the vast majority of the 5.9 million acres of reserved forest lands” in California (link HERE). So that leads one to believe that much of the mismanagement of forests is actually not due to our state laws or restrictions, but to federal authorities. Not pointing fingers. There has been quite a bit of environmental messiness in our state, and so it’s confusing to figure out who to blame. Let’s just say there is plenty of blame to go around, and it may not be useful to look at it that way; rather, it would be helpful to start now and look ahead to what may come, and how best to prepare for that.

Dusk

Tom and I talk a lot about our retirement and where we want to live. Both the likelihood of big fire events and predicted sea level rise have us re-thinking locations, not to mention that the South is getting ever-hotter and the West is getting ever-drier. That means a house on the coast is out, as is a house in the deep woods. And meanwhile, our current little house here in Walnut Creek needs to be as prepared as possible.

For information on how to help the fire victims, please go to THIS page.

Always Dusk

This morning we saw the sun for the first time in days. There has been so much smoke in the air that the sun is usually obscured, like a permanent dusk. The smoke we are experiencing is coming from the Camp Fire up in Butte County, which is about 150 miles northeast of here. Of course it is burning in Southern California too, so basically the entire state is under smoke cover. The reason we had a little sun and clearer skies this morning was because the wind picked up. Which yes, blows the smoke out, but also strikes fear because wind + fire = catastrophe. So we’re never really sure which we’d rather have, wind or smoke. What we really need is rain, but we haven’t had significant moisture since April. And as I’ve said before, it doesn’t help matters that the president continues to express opinions (not facts) about the fires in California. There are myriad reasons for the problems with fire here, and there is no simple solution.

Meanwhile, we try hard not to look at the news all the time, try to stay positive, and pray with all our hearts for those affected. Our beloved Camp Okizu is in the path of the Camp Fire at the moment, and the town it resides in, Berry Creek, has been evacuated.

As for our own preparedness (we live under a mountain that has been under a red flag warning for days now), I’ve made sure our Emergency Binder and supplies are up to date, and that’s about all we can do.

It’s finally lettuce season, and we could have a salad every day if we wanted to. There’s nothing better than going out to pick greens for a scramble with our chicken eggs and a little bacon, or for a lunch chicken Caesar. I’ve given up on one bed of beets and kohlrabi - after replanting three times, and having it all eaten three times, I sowed in a cereal rye cover crop. At least I can improve the soil in that location if nothing else. Everything, everywhere else, looks great.

I rescued the butterfly you see above. Or at least I think I did. I found this Gulf Fritillary in the same bed I was seeding to rye, on the soil, barely moving. I think she must have overnighted in there and got too cold (it’s been in the 30’s at night). I carefully moved her to a warm spot on the fence; she graciously allowed me to photograph her as she fanned her wings, and then she flew off. Hooray. The frost is getting to a lot of things - many of our zinnias bit the dust last night, and the tithonia is looking peaked.

My urban-farmer-friend Nils grew popcorn this year and generously gave us a couple of ears. We let it cure for a month and a half, and then shucked it last night and popped it on the stove. It was the best popcorn we ever had.

Popping corn on the stove is something I did not do a lot of when I was young, but Tom did, so he handled that part of things. I do remember popping corn on top of our wood stove back in Maryland. It does taste so much better than air popped.

I saved a few kernels even though I think this is an F1 hybrid and the next generation may not come true. I may order an heirloom variety and try to find a place for a few stalks next year. The problem with corn is that you need to plant a certain amount of it in a cluster, for best pollination. So finding room for it is questionable. Anyone have a spare veg bed I could rent out for the summer?

Planning for an Emergency

In 1991, I was living with my boyfriend in a tiny basement apartment overlooking the 580 freeway in Oakland. Our front stoop looked east, with a view of rush hour traffic and the Oakland/Berkeley hills beyond. I was working at a rock shop; my boss lived up in those hills in a very grand house. One Sunday morning in October, I came out of my front door and saw smoke in the hills. I called my boss at home; she didn't answer. I called her at the rock shop and her husband answered. I told him what I was seeing; he said, "Thanks, Elizabeth, I'm sure the fire department is taking care of it."

William (my boyfriend at the time) and I shrugged, and jumped in the car and went to see what was happening. We were young and foolish. We went east on highway 24 and then south on highway 13. By this point fire could be clearly seen up above the Caldecott Tunnel. We pulled off 13 onto the first exit, which is Broadway Terrace. There we were met with a long line of fire trucks and active firefighting in the canyon just off the freeway. The fire had jumped highway 13 (It would also jump highway 24). We watched in horror for a moment before a police officer came and told us to get out of there. Traffic was intense; people were evacuating their homes and we were stuck in the middle of it. Finally we made it safely home to our apartment, where we sat on the stoop and watched the fire rage down the hill toward downtown Oakland, before it was finally halted. It killed 25 people, injured 150 others, and destroyed 1520 acres, 2843 homes, and 437 apartments. It also completely leveled my boss's house. 

That's a day I'll never forget. In many ways, it shaped the way I think about fire. I was here for the 1989 earthquake, too, and that was a terrible and destructive time in its own right, but for some reason earthquakes don't scare me like fire does. As a child living in a town home in Gaithersburg, MD, there was a very serious fire right next door to us, and I had nightmares about that for weeks. Later in another home of ours, a candle burned down into a piece of my dad's furniture, causing a fire in our dining room that scorched the wall and ceiling. That cemented my fear of fire, though since we heated our home with a wood stove, I was called upon to both make fires and keep them burning every winter, so I guess I got to the place where I was functional with the fear. I'm our resident fire-maker even today, when we camp or make fires at home. Fire also holds a sort of fascination, which is why I guess I agreed to drive up to the hills and see it that day.

Because of all this, I'm extremely sensitive to fire events, and I haven't even had a fire tragedy; I can only imagine how it feels for folks who have lost a home or a loved one. I do think Californians in general are uniquely tuned to the fire danger all around at this time of year. And it's been an especially bad year for fires in the West. 

About 2 am Monday morning, I woke up to the smell of smoke. I said something to Tom and he smelled it too. I must have fallen back asleep, because I looked at the clock an hour later and it smelled even worse. So I got out of bed and did the rounds. I had already been up once because of the high winds - I had forgotten to take down the wind chimes and they were keeping me awake. Later I heard that the wind on top of Mt Diablo was 75 mph. 

High offshore winds (called Diablo winds in Northern CA and Santa Ana winds in Southern CA) are common this time of year, which seems especially cruel, as we haven't had significant widespread precipitation since April. They bring hot dry air from the east, along with extremely low relative humidities. Our humidity the last week or so has been around 10%. This is usually higher because of onshore winds that carry fog throughout the bay area. 

As you've all seen in your local newspapers, many fires started Sunday night in Napa and Sonoma counties. The death count continues to rise (as of this writing, 15 people have perished), missing-persons counts continue to rise, the acreage of the fires has risen to over 70,000 acres burned, and there is, as of yet, 0% containment of any of these fires. The devastation is horrifying. In the more rural areas, huge wineries and farms are being impacted. In Santa Rosa, which is a very large city, urban areas are burning. The fires jumped ridges from Napa to Santa Rosa, which is about 16 miles, in a matter of hours Sunday night.

It's 42 miles from our house to the center of Napa. It's hard to watch this happening to our neighbors. Smoke has been covering our local skies, and many outdoor events have been cancelled. I just got an alert that there is another red flag warning for our area tonight, which means more high winds are possible.

This, along with the horrors of the hurricanes several weeks ago, has had me thinking very deeply about the state of our personal emergency preparedness. Tom and I had several talks over the last month about what we have in terms of supplies, what our plan is if something happens, and then sharing this with our kids repeatedly. We have plenty of water and food put up, and we have things like flashlights, and we have a list of numbers on the fridge (do you have your kids' cell numbers memorized? I don't), and we have an out-of-state contact, and meeting place, but that's about it. We really felt (and continue to feel) as though we need to be more prepared for an emergency. Around here, the mantra is that you've got to be prepared to spend 72 hours alone and without help or power.

So, I got busy. I ordered water in pouches for the car, just in case we are stuck in there during an earthquake. Water in pouches lasts for five years, longer than bottles, and fits neatly in a compartment in the trunk. I also ordered mylar blankets for the car, which take up little space, and both Tom and I vowed to fill the gas tanks whenever they are half-empty.  For home, I ordered a battery-powered radio and made sure we have enough extra batteries on hand. We have an extra propane tank, our grill and camping stove for cooking if need be, and I also have spent a good deal of time working on an emergency binder. This includes all kinds of lists, copies of our insurance policies, and copies of our medical insurance cards. I've made copies of all these things to go in our safety deposit box as well, which is where we keep things like passports and social security cards. I went around the house and garage and took pictures of everything we own; I've downloaded those pictures onto a thumb drive that also will go in the safety deposit box. I've made a list that is now on the fridge under our 'emergency numbers' - this list contains what we need to grab in an emergency - things like medications, or extra shoes, from most important at the top to least important at the bottom. If we have only five minutes to get out of the house, this can help us get what we need quickly.

I'm not the only one thinking along these lines. I follow a blog called Northwest Edible Life, and she had a whole series of emergency preparedness posts in the month of September. This was a great help to me as I worked my way through my to-do list, and I heartily recommend you check it out. I've also signed up for emergency alerts through Nixle, which is a great service to keep you informed if something is happening in your area. 

We are thinking of our neighbors to the north and praying for their safety and for the abatement of the fires. Here is a link to Red Cross if you feel led to help.