There is something of the sacred in those stained glass spaces between pine needles and leaves where the sky peeks through - something of infinity distilled, of complexity contained.
I marvel at all that beauty, and, as always, I sense its fragility.
Lately, I’ve been watching the horizon for signs of wildfire smoke, fighting that creeping sense of dread with reminders of the things I CAN control, the things I CAN do, the places I CAN protect.
I ponder our complex relationship with the forest and with fire - and I draw.
“To a generation of people who had never witnessed the might of a wildfire, who migrated west solely by desire to extract riches from the land then leave it decimated, who have no reverence or respect for nature, the fire is no reason for concern until it is upon them burning their buildings and the train tracks on which they hope to escape. Until they see the destruction, smell the burning, and feel the heat, they do not comprehend its destructive power.”
- Timothy Egan, “The Big Burn”
