The temperature in Los Angeles has started dropping and it finally got cold enough the night before last that the A/C never kicked on which means…
Hell yeah! So, last night, I grabbed my lighter, relit the hearth pilot light and then me and the kitties had a nice snuggle in front of our gas fireplace (which has all the ambiance of a fake log in front of toppled propane grill but hey, warm.)
Sadly, since it’s a gas fireplace, it doesn’t have that wonderful campfire smell one associates with fireplaces so, last winter, I bought some wood-scented incense to make the whole experience a bit more authentic and they do a pretty good job.
Anyway, this morning, I awoke to find the living room actually smelled like a fireplace! Which was odd because I hadn’t used the incense the night before. “Aww,” I thought, “everyone in the neighborhood must’ve used their real fireplaces last night! Who says LA can’t have a proper Christmas?”
Then I opened the blinds to find, towering over our place, a gigantic pillar of smoke coming from just northeast of us.
Oh, well THAT explains the smell. A massive brush fire.
No, not the 50,000 acre one. I know that started last night but that’s over in Ventura county.
The Rye Fire in Santa Clarita? Close, but no cigar. (Or anything else flammable, for the love of god!)
The Creek Fire near Sylmar? Yep, that’s the one!
The column of smoke looked like somebody was growing a thunderstorm. The pieces of ash – burnt remains of trees and homes – floated through the air like snowflakes, coated our pool like ice and made tiny piles on our patio furniture and hummingbird feeder.
Despite the horror of it all, it almost felt… festive.
So, c’mon kids! Santa (Ana) is on his way! Grab your stockings and let’s go hang them on the chimney!
Because, really, that’s all we’ve got left…