Post Burn and Back to Normal

The ride down Highway 17 is foggy and cool; I’m kicking on the wipers and slowing down to 10 past some construction on the Southbound side.  You’d never know we were in a heat wave; the roads are wet and the air is moist.  Farther and farther down the 1, I’m passing black patches of earth and dead yellow trees.  Was the fire this bad?  Wait, was that a burned-out house…Right next to the freeway?

I feel like a tourist rolling through New Orleans – I didn’t know it was this bad and I feel awful for not being more aware.  You get numb to the news about ‘bad forest fires’ and it isn’t something you think too much about until you see bare cinder-block foundations and burned-out hulks of cars.  I cruise into the lot and look across the road.  The fire was right there and you can still smell the smoke – like the way an old campfire ring still smells faintly of woodsmoke.  They left the servers in place but took the backups – would it have been enough?  I’m glad they didn’t have to find out.  It was business-as-usual on a Friday morning.  Blind chance was the only reason why.