Grieving the Return of Smoke Season

Jul 26, 2019 | Blog

Last evening around dusk as I was preparing for dinner I heard my daughter Arayla suddenly shout out from the living room, “Oh no!” And then I heard my son Ezra scramble out from his bedroom to see what the deal was. I joined my children in the living room and found them standing at the window, staring out towards the mountains.

Arayla glanced up at me worriedly, “Do you think that’s smoke, Mama?”

Ezra moaned loudly, “Oh please no, please!”

I shook my head with resistance and denial, “Maybe not, Guys. Maybe it’s just foggy or hazy.”

I quickly went to my computer and looked up the air quality index for Ashland, and it was still reading normal.

I searched for local wildfires, and saw that there were indeed a handful.

I returned to the window beside my children, and my heart sank as I confessed that the air did seem to have that familiar, dreaded weight to it. Within a few minutes, the air thickened further still, and it became obvious: the smoke was back.

Before I took our dog Freya out for her evening walk, I reached up into the coat closet and got down our masks from last year.

We’ve had the most glorious Summer here in Southern Oregon up until now. Really, we’ve been so grateful. The children have been riding their bikes everywhere, stretching into newfound independence in our sweet and special valley.

Arayla’s been tending to her horse every day, and loving her barn job of cleaning stalls and feeding horses, while Ezra’s been shooting hoops for hours on end, sweating up a storm while refining his skills.

As July has stretched on, smoke-free, and we passed the anniversary of when the fires began last year and the year before last, I’ve been wondering if maybe we could just get a break from it this year? Could we be so blessed? I’ve heard a few people mention it, quietly, under their breath, “Oh we’ve been so lucky this year with all the clean air!” alongside some superstitious sense of, “Shhh…don’t say it too loud.”

It’s easy to feel the collective PTSD of the land and all the creatures. There’s a palpable strain on the humans of this region in feeling trapped by the toxicity of the smoke. It’s depressing to realize this is just one of our seasons now: Fire Season, Smoke Season. It comes in between Summer and Fall.

This morning I was still in bed when my kids came and snuggled in close. First Ezra came,  cuddling into my right, and then a few minutes later Arayla arrived, cozying into my left. They were both in tears in my arms, openly grieving the arrival of the smoke. I held them close and empathized, “I know, my loves. I’m so sorry…”

Ezra, whose lungs are particularly sensitive to the impact of the smoke, started scheming about how we would get away. He began imagining out loud how we could hitch a horse trailer to the back of our car and bring Ollie, Arayla’s horse, with us, and how we’d find a beautiful house by the ocean somewhere, where Arayla could safely ride Ollie in the clean ocean air on the beach.

His adorably generous (albeit far-fetched) fantasy seemed to be genuinely bringing him joy and peace, until he said, “But that would probably be like a million dollars. Or at least twelve thousand dollars, right Mom?”

He was quiet for a few moments, before he concluded, “The problems are that: 1) It’s expensive to leave, and 2) we don’t want to be away from our home, and 3) we can’t just leave our animals, but we can’t bring them with us easily either.” His shoulders slumped down as he recognized the complexity.

Arayla began to tell us about a new kind of expensive horse blanket she was just reading about, made of the same material firefighter’s coats are made of, with a built-in tracking device, so if you let your horse run off in a fire, maybe at least it’s easier to find them later.

As I held my children I reminded them how grateful we can be for our well-insulated home, and air-conditioning, and to remember how many people have it far worse. I talked about how my heart especially goes to the homeless at this time of year, and to all the wild animals whose homes are outside, and to the fire-fighters, working so hard to put out the fires.

I spoke a prayer for humans to be ever-more conscious, diligent, responsible and respectful towards fire, as the vast majority of wildfires, including this one presently filling our valley with smoke, have been caused by humans being irresponsible.

I spoke a prayer for our beloved Mother Earth, fevering with global warming, and fighting to find the balance.

It seems the most and best we can do at times is to openly grieve, count our bountiful blessings, and pray.

xoxoxo

Facebook Comments

More Blog Posts

Dream Prayer: Loving The Thief

Heading into prayer space this weekend. So deeply grateful to have the chance to gather with kindreds around the flame and sit with what is churning in our hearts, and in the great heart of our world in these tender, troubling times.I had a potent dream a couple of nights ago that I am still working with deeply. The dream was about my car (a common symbol for me) getting stolen by an irreverent, narcissistic, nonchalant and arrogant drug-lord thief! I tried everything to get the thief to give m […]

Birthing A Star

This morning as I lay in my bed in the dark, gently transitioning into the new day, I saw the light pouring out through the crack of Ezra’s bedroom door, which shares a wall with my own bedroom.

I stretched my ears to listen to the most marvelous sound~ a sound that is deeply familiar to me by now~ of him […]

My Grandmother, The Queen

My beloved Grandmother, my mother’s mother, Dorothy Dannenbaum Rudolph, fondly known by us all as “Dede,” passed on from this world late last night at the seasoned age of 94.

She died in the comfort of her own home, in her own bed, with her two loving daughters by her side. She had been […]

“Come In”

Tonight I go to tuck Ezra (7.5) into bed, and there’s a little handwritten note taped to his door that says: “Come in.”
I walk into his room and find him already in his bed, lying there quietly in the dark, waiting for me.
He asks, somberly: “Did you see the note?”
I say: “Yes, I did!”
He says, still serious in tone: “So that’s why you came in?”
I chuckle a little and say: “Yes, that’s why I came in.”
He asks: “Did you see the *first* note I put on my door?”
I say: “No I didn’t. What did it say?”
He responds: “It said: ‘Do not come in.’”
I say with surprise: […]

Mother

For Mother’s Day today I wrote to my mother:

“My dear, beautiful, amazing Mom!!

Happy Mother’s day!! I love you so much. What a lucky life I live with you as my mother!! 

If you knew all the moments my heart beats with sheer gratitude for who you are, and how you show up in this world, and in my life specifically, along with the […]

Retrograde Mama Morning

This morning was one of those mornings where it was quite clear that all the retrograde planets were colliding and exploding in my very home! Ezra’s alarm didn’t go off at 6 am as he was expecting it to, disrupting his cherished self-made morning rhythm of showering and playing early, before Arayla and I rise, so he can claim his 7-year-old space and his center.

And so I woke […]

The Thankless Job~ & How It Invites Us To BE The Thanks

I remember one time, when my kids were much smaller, maybe 5 and 2 years old, we had just gotten over a horrendous family stomach flu. You know the kind~ where just like dominos, everyone goes down? One by one, everyone is violently, grossly sick, all over the house. And then, after scrubbing the bathrooms and doing 15 loads of laundry and taking care of everyone for days, finally the Mom gets it too?

I distinctly remember speaking to my dear mother at the time over […]

​Sandcastle Lessons for Tenacity, Generosity and Surrender!

Enjoying a glorious beach day yesterday in Point Reyes with the children and our beautiful puppy, I had the luxury of just sitting there, quietly, soaking in the abundance of beauty~ while witnessing them all playing in the sand together, my gorgeous beach-loving little ones.

Towards the end of our time I noticed the kids were intently focused on building a sandcastle together, but […]

A Birthing Day

Last night I curled up with my beloved girl at bedtime, on her 11th birthday eve, stroking her long, auburn hair, massaging her sweet golden shoulders. I snuggled in to tell her, lingeringly, in annual ritual fashion, the glorious and epic story of her body’s birth...

Unconditional

Several weeks ago, one night at bedtime, my son Ezra (7) got overly exhausted and intensely triggered, and in his fury he yelled at me, viciously: “You aren’t even my MOM!!” And then, fuming, spitting, he said: “You are such a fucking!!”

I felt astonishingly calm in the face of his foul-mouthed rage. In fact, I found myself […]