Sun still obscured, ash fell on the windshield of the car as we looked out over Capitola's Sunday parade of tourists, surfers, beach-goers, strolling families and people sitting on the wharf enjoying music.
The occasional sound in the distance of a siren - ambulance or fire engine.
Birds singing in the oak.
A breeze rustles their leaves.
We ripped all of the carpet our of our home the week that Suzanne was on jury duty and we ate rather shapeless pasta with meat sauce and whey for dinner.
That was a tough time. The installers came in, stripped the top floor of the house bare, then began to make alterations to the floorboards while playing a terrible C&W station on the radio. The twangy tunes definitely didn't make for nice ear candy when combined with the staccato of the nailgun. Our cat Petie took refuge downstairs in my office in the corner behind my leather armchair.
I didn't. He proved smarter than I was.
Not that we're cookin' up a rack of ribs - it's wild fires that have kept the air smelling that way here in Santa Cruz county for more than a week, what with fires in Bonny Doone, Aptos and now the big blaze in Big Sur.
A couple of mornings ago it was particularly strong. I stepped out into the driveway, came back into the house and left black footprints where I'd unknowingly stepped in ash that had settled on our concrete overnight.
The sun is obscured most of the day.
Points out to me that we're all interconnected as I watch people streaming down the freeway in U-Haul trucks trying to flee the mess. Who know when this will end - looks like it's going to be a long, hot summer.
It was a few years ago....there was a mixed up phone number. Next thing I knew I was talking with Susie Bright, commentator on all things and woman about town, as she drove through the back woods. Got it straightened out - involved a famous writer I'll blog about later, but it was one of those weird things where a wrong number connects you with someone you had no idea you'd ever get get in touch with.
