Ash Tuesday

I live about four miles downhill from the Sesnon fire, which I guess isn't that far, but since it's four miles that include a freeway, several main streets and the other trappings of urban living that work as a protection against wild fires.

A lot of people we know, those who live above the 118 (the dividing line between Northridge and Porter Ranch) have been evacuated.  I dropped a line earlier to a dear friend of mine.  Hopefully, she's okay.

Outside, ash is falling from the sky like snow flakes.  The smell is potent, like everyone in the San Fernando Valley decided to light their fireplaces at once.  The air isn't fit for breathing, it's thick, hot and sooty.  And the wind, which has died down from yesterday (when there were ten power outages throughout the day on my block alone), is still fierce enough to whip ash and debris into unprotected eyes.

Addendum:

Right after I posted this, I realized that I had no soda in the house and then, in my infinite wisdom, decided that it would be best if I walked to 7-11.  That plan lasted for less than half-a-block.  It's really hard to breathe outside.  After five steps, my head began to throb and my throat felt tight and sore. Despite wearing sunglasses, my eyes watered profusely.  I came back and grabbed the car.  Nobody is walking today except for our mailman, who is wearing a mask (although I doubt that helps much).  The 7-11 parking lot was filled with cars, all covered with soot, and everyone in line was also covered in soot.