The winds howled all night last night; I was half-convinced that we'd find ourselves in Oz this morning. Instead, I woke up, walked outside, and thought we'd ended up in Perdition.
That's the smoke; the fires are a ways off, but they blacken the sky, making it look like something out of Tolkien. We're safe, backed up as we are against the sea (I'd by remiss in my duties to my surfing readers if I didn't mention that these hell-spawned Santa Anas have produced some of the greatest waves I've ever seen - the tubes at Semi-Secret Spot yesterday were something to see, and yes I feel some degree of shame writing about waves while this cataclysm unfolds.) The whole of San Diego County, it seems, is burning. The Cedar Fire, which kicked off four years ago to the day yesterday, will seem like a votive candle by comparison. We are backed up against the ocean, which means safety (probably), but doesn't lessen the anxiety.
