When Mister and I first moved to Los Angeles, fire season was brief and always in the fall. Cut to a few decades later, and fire season is year-round.

 

Last Saturday was a sad reminder of this. As Mister and I drove to dinner, we noticed the sky’s smog wasn’t quite what we’re used to. We rounded a corner and could clearly see the smog wasn’t smog at all. It was smoke. And we reckoned it was coming from pretty far out in The Valley. Only later would we learn the fire was burning in Calabasas.

 

I sent a quick text to my friend Lori, just checking in. She and her family live in Calabasas and while I didn’t want to intrude too much during her weekend, I did want to know if they were okay. Lori responded immediately with a text, letting me know that yes – they were fine. She also included a photo taken from the front of her house. It showed a wall of fire at the end of her street. It was too close for comfort. Literally. I guess prevailing winds and the efforts of firefighters kept Lori’s street safe. Not everyone was so lucky.

 

I don’t like the fact that we no longer have a fire season, and instead have full-time fire risk. I don’t like it at all. But that’s life. And sometimes life is dangerous, even as it appears beautiful against a setting sun.

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