Fire Photos *TRIGGER!*

So glad to see someone else using ‘crikey.’

Fabulous posts; I'm laughing and crying - really I am!

Cigarette burns...Once my precious older sister's cigarette lost some fiery ash, dropped on my little 4 year old leg just above the bony little knee (I was sitting in the red Mustang; it was 19667), and left a distinct burn. I laughed! Yes, it Hurt. Like. Hell- (there goes old Tom Waits again) - but because I so adored her and everything she did - I remember her, "Oh sh_it, Laurinda!" (her pet name for me) as she frantically attempted to sweep the hot ash from my leg.

I was in love with her cigarette-burn holes...they were on nearly everything she owned, those little holes with black perimeters...and now I am full-on, tears running down cheeks. Could I have kept one of those little round emblems? Or did she take them with her to the grave?

Is there anyone you love, someone you can gift a torn bit of ciggie-singed bedsheet to? Never know; that person just might sit with burnt bit of cloth grasped tightly in her hand, hold on for dear life....

Fire. 'Tis the season.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A tremendous Thank you to everyone who has posted on this thread. Thank you for your care, concern, support. With delight I am reporting that the major wildfires are under control now. This week's blessedly cooler temperature are aiding the effort to stop any new fires from taking off. Next week will be hot again, but we'll cross that bridge when we arrive.

Now the time has arrived for Californians to argue over why these wildfires have become rampant:

Thin the forests!
Set herds of goats out there to munch away the underbrush!
Why was logging stopped....see what has happened?
Proof that climate change is real!
Damned liberals!
Ignorant conservatives!
When will this drought end - will it ever end?

And on it goes......"Crikey" indeed...perfect word, Purple.

I am glad you are safe Laurie

Goodness gracious alive, woman! Still slinging Traubert’s Blues, Jitterbug Girl? Chuck E. — in love, ya know? What a pair they made! What an inspiration to lovers everywhere! What chops, what licks! Tumultuous, though (I was told by a session drummer who I cannot name).

Let’s not play with fire, fond as the memories may be? I don’t know... I’m unsure. Those things that we love about those that we love! (‘67 — I was the dandy of Gamma Chi.) The sweet crushing memories of things whisked away, snatched up, stolen.

I do know.

It isn’t the emblem that you want, it’s the fire; the ember that settles bright-orange-down on summer shifts and skirts burning the tell-tale signatures of those brave enough to smoke. Those with courageous genes who say ‘poo’ to the PC (and cancer). Let’s celebrate them with a bonfire that colors the Moon bright-orange-down!

Nothing grave about it.

(I have the jitters. Too much tea.)

The song that the trees sing when the wind blows, you’re a flower, you’re a river, you’re a rainbow. Sometimes I’m crazy (but I guess you know); I’m weak and I’m lazy and I hurt you so, and I don’t listen to a word you say; and when you’re in trouble I turn away, but I love you and I loved you the first time I saw you and I always will love you, Marie. (Randy Newman, Marie, from the pivotal, awe-inspired-inspiring concept album Good Old Boys, 1974)

Poets. Poet Laureates. A laurel, and hardy handshake.

Now that song makes me cry. Absolutely, sweet Marie (1966).

The things that we recall, packed and hidden away from ECT laser-beams (them’s lasers!) — fallen embers, soldiers fallen on foreign soil, those falling leaves, bright-orange-down.

From fire to fire to fire — I’m not off-topic!



What do we do, old shoe?

Sigh.

Blimey! So relieved for you, Laurie

:d :d :d