Fires recently engulfed the area surrounding this beautiful beach. I watched the progress and air quality daily and expected to now see it charred and withered. Instead, there is evidence but not ultimate destruction. Nature finds a balance as long as we don't stand too headstrong in its way. 

As we walk, a raven is in lockstep with our movements. We say hello as he skips beside us. It is delightful and quite charming. As I reach for my camera, he doesn't exit the scene like most of the corvids usually do. Seeing my curious glance, he does a little dance and pauses for a snack or two. Every time I look for his wings to be outstretched, he is just strolling at a safe distance. 

The beach is sparsely populated, so we are able to breath freely at least part of the time. The salt air smells good and my lungs fill, crisp and clean. Various sea birds flit about feasting on what washes ashore. This is a good mid December morning, in the year 2020. 

The air was clean enough to go to the beach this morning. This is our constant cycle these days. Check the air quality, measure the covid risk, and decide the heatwave tolerance level. It is the 2020 disaster dance of west coast sanity seekers. We are mostly here for the environment after all. It is so strange to interact with it in this odd and dysfunctional way. Nevertheless, at the beach, contentment is found.  

The waves are raucous and surfers find solace in flowing with the push pull of the water. Salt drenches sun soaked skin of those who see the ocean as their second home, or maybe even their first. I grew up in the south near a river where, at the time, people dumped old refrigerators and used car parts. Sure, it was also pretty in certain areas, but it wasn't much more than a glorified creek. So, to me, the ocean has always seemed so grand. I realize I repeat this sentiment over and over again, but some things are well worth repeating.  

A bottle of used hot sauce is weary, worried it is responsible for the larger heat and fire.
Tea cups are arranged for a party, but pebbles promise to get stuck in eager teeth.
A blue bump tries to remove itself, leaving a gaping wound.
A fence bulges and bends, containing the invisible. 
A child's hand reports the air quality to those looking for clean inhalation.
Wayward white paper has been crying, its message lost.
A tree strapped tries not to waver from the growth it has before it.
Caution cones are weary as their job is never ending. 
A tiny stage begs for its performer and audience on an empty lawn.
Jagged and scraped, orange and white attempt to emphasize yellow.
A strange man makes a moldy announcement, mouth agape. 
Behind the fence, this is where the fire sits.   

The containment of the fires grows and the smoke has more breaks between. However, we are now in a heat wave and PGE threatens more power outages due to expected high winds next week. 2020 is relentless and California is in a state of fatigue. An early morning walk offers a bit of respite. 

I look at a familiar apartment building in the neighborhood, called Capri. We went to the island of Capri once and rode the chairlift for the best views. I dangled my feet, kicking them back and forth the way a child might. I love ferris wheels, chair lifts and swing rides. I rode on a swing ride in Vienna once that was said to be the highest chained carousel in the whole world at 383 ft tall. No one I was with would go with me. It felt rickety and dangerous but I was determined. It was also night and the city was lit up. I could see the stars. As the swing dipped and turned, my teeth dried out from smiling. My hands cramped from holding rusty chains. It was the best sensation, and while it lasted, I was on top of the world. 

I walk on and see a street sign that reads, "Florence". I have never been there but am happy to continue with the Italian theme this block provides. I imagine myself eating good cheese and bread and drinking red wine at a local cafe. Surely art viewing will be part of the day and hopefully a local flea market. This is my imaginary vacation prompted by a couple visual clues in California. On a good day, I am very happy to be here. When the Golden State suffers and wails, I escape into my mind where all things are possible. 

It takes all that I have to stay positive as California is burning, but it is nearly impossible to escape the inevitable at this point. Every time the wind blows, my heart jumps. When the heat rises, my stomach turns. When the electricity disappears I wilt in worry. These are the days of the apocalypse. Glimmers of hope filter in through the cracks. Watching the horrible that is the news creates an abyss that is hard to crawl out of. Photography will continue to be my refuge as long as I let it. A pandemic is one thing, but piling on raging fires is more than most have capacity to digest. Our "go bags" are ready and for now we are safe. Others are not so lucky. My heart breaks for them. My heart breaks for this beautiful state.