A true story, chronicling the fires of Tuolumne County and surrounding areas, after a particularly hot and smoky week spurs three fires in two days.
Written by a nearly eighteen year old, witnessing the world around her catch fire.
Like a bag of marshmallows dropped onto an open flame made of cedar.
It's misguiding.
At first, you pause and take a deep breath, not alarmed in the slightest. Probably someone burning their cake.
Then you open your eyes and see the plume of smoke and then you have to call CalFire because this is serious and it's so close and dear God let them catch it.
I've lost track of the fires this week.
I was at camp last week, and on the way home, Saturday, we saw the beginnings of what would be a nearly 1000 acre fire, named Twist. When we got home there was another.
And one has been burning since we went away to camp. The Detwiler, which nearly claimed the town of Mariposa. This one can be seen from space.
More info: Devastating Wildfire Can Be Seen From Space - National Geographic https://apple.news/ACG574lNZTXqJWuWNQ58fUw
Today we went shopping for Abby's birthday party. There have been three fires today.
The first, a vehicle fire. A Pepsi truck caught fire, and I found out checking the county incident feed. It was far enough away that I didn't see the CalFire trucks.
As we left Mom's work, I heard sirens and almost missed the white CalFire pickup truck whizzing past. Checking the feed, it was a house fire in Twain Harte, this tiny town in the Sierras, near where I live. It was contained and out within the hour.
The third was the grass fire. My mom got out of the car after dropping us off at the library and took a photo of a plume of smoke up near the Junction shopping center. She realized the irony afterwards: the snapshot features a "no smoking" sign.
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By the time we drove home an hour later, all that was left was the remnants of smoke.
"Smells like a barbecue," Joy comments.
"Or s'mores," Abby adds.
Mom tells us about the fire then.
I'm keeping a tally now, I've decided. Three today. More tomorrow. Maybe another one added in today, if God decides he has the time to test us again.
My first big fire that I remember was the Rim Fire, in 2013, just before — and invading — my eighth grade year. It got so bad that Summerville, my school now, was canceled from the smoke. Three of my friends were evacuated and stayed closer to town. All that anyone cared about was that Yosemite was close to the fire. You could see the burn area from space.
We made cookies and cards for the firefighters who came from all over to fight the Rim Fire. I still have one of the cards, my favorite, that I "accidentally" forgot to give out, since it was in the bottom of the bag.
If I hadn't lost all of my photos from eighth grade when my first iPod died, I'd still have photos of the smoke and fire trucks.
In 2015, there was another big fire, farther away, in King's Canyon, called Butte. We got the smoke from that one, too.
Such is our luck.
Oh! And there was that fire at the lumberyard, near church, started by what was concluded as a loose chain striking asphalt near drier than dry wood.
That was fun.
Now, as we're driving home, the sky is more grey than blue.
