I’ve been posting whiny Facebook statuses regarding the Station Fire, but as it grows, and starts to claim lives, I’m leaving off the witty remarks in favor of stunned reverence. We could see flames on nearby ridges Friday night when the Atwater street party was happening.
I snapped a picture on Saturday on my way back from The Valley, when it was already getting unbelievably big.
Yesterday it was just a massive wash of gray smoke, punctuated by undulating white billows that rose up like the mountains had been bombed. I woke up smelling smoke the last four or five mornings, and reports are that the fire will rage for several more days. Firefighters have died in the attempt to contain it. In some ways, it’s a bit how I used to picture the end of the world, where we all numbly continue our daily routines and watch the conflagration grow closer.
But there will be renewal. The Griffith Park fire blackened the hills nearby and made the view rather bleak for a while, but vegetation is starting to grow again. The Angeles forest will follow in the same way. We get used to the fast pace of city life, where billboards change monthly and new skyscrapers spring up every year. But, putting things in perspective, taking the long view, this fire will encourage new growth, and, okay, it will take a few years for it to take hold enough to be noticeable, but a new start is only possible when the dense, dry, dead underbrush is cleared away.
