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Houses, hotels, iconic vineyards and resorts, the culture of a Place, all can go up in smoke, and did this week where I live. So far, my house is spared. But my garden must wonder why With temperatures in the hundreds, I have not brought water.
But I am far away now with my hard drives and my Go-Bags. Outside the window, a cat watches the dark, a rooster crows. Far off the ocean roars. Little seabirds, peeping, pierce the fog. The refrigerator hums. In the other room, my husband snores.
What can the living do? Thank the providence that sustains? That spares us and not others? This question dogs me even as I do my daily gratitudes. The kindness of friends for the use of Their house. The fireman next door who watches the chickens.
Also the rooster whose crowing reminds me that even though His life is short, he celebrates it with full voice to the open sky And all the others of his kind who want to be king of the coop. He notifies even the fox that he is here, strong and not afraid.
Light coming now, over the hill. Dark clouds and salmon glow. Winking red lights of a car across the lagoon on Highway One. Morning in Bolinas. Is this a dream and I have gone to heaven?
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