Monday the 7th
The only sign that life remains
are in the moments just before dawn
somewhere down near the creek … the children playing
called quickly indoors before the smoke returns
I linger over apps that promise relief,
which never comes. The first day of triple digits,
I close the windows before the sun comes up,
the house stays bearable until late afternoon.
The second day, I draw the blinds,
the house stays bearable until noon.
the third day … I pray the power stays still on.
Currently it’s hovering between 108 and 110 with an air quality fluctuating between Unhealthy for Certain Groups and Unhealthy, period. The weatherman keeps promising a break but I know what’s going on. They just don’t want to admit that California has become a pizza oven. Guess what suckers – welcome to your new reality.
Even my funky penis plant is suffering. I had expected the blossoming to have climbed to the tip of the stalk. But then it stopped.
I’ve actually come to love this funky plant. I think I’ll grow a whole garden full of them.
Only they prefer an arid landscape and it does rain in California. Sometimes. I hope. Soon.
Tuesday, Sept. 8th 8:00 AM: The power is back on but high winds are expected. Meaning: charge your batteries and buy ice. It’s 72 and too smokey to see the sun. But, the children are playing in the driveway across the street.