Evacuees! It's a Long Story....

On Saturday, August 21, 2021, we decided to make the trip down to the Bay Area from South Lake Tahoe for a family birthday party in El Cerrito. It had been getting pretty smoky from the Dixie fire, and now there was talk of a new one, called Caldor. By the morning, our usual and shorter route on Hwy. 50 was reported closed, so we had to opt for Interstate 80, which would add an hour or so to our drive. I hated that idea, since I still hadn't quite recovered from doing most of the driving on the 39 day road trip we took in June and July. Still, Doug's kids seemed genuinely excited to have us come, so we packed our bags, thinking we would be back in two days.

With the news of the highway closure, and the ominous look of the sky and atmosphere turned eerily a dark red by the smoke over the sun, we packed a few extra things. People posted items that you should pack in a "go-bag", that you would leave by the front door, in case of evacuation. Ours included our briefcase containing important papers, our big bag of pills and vitamins, and all of our chargers, phones and laptops, just in case. 

At the party we kept vowing that we would be going back home on Monday, but we were looking forward to staying with his daughter Grace for the two nights and getting in some good visits with the family. We had just about gotten used to the AQI (air quality index) from the smoke to be at 250 or so, and it was quite a treat to look out at the San Francisco Bay and realize that I was seeing fog rather than smoke. Besides, our raspy sounding voices were noticeable to everyone, and we should maybe give our lungs a break.

My sister Lorraine asked if we'd like to spend a couple of days in Lafayette with her and her husband, and I jumped at the chance to have a nice long visit with my sister. She'd had an awful lot of company lately, including my daughter and her new baby, but she encouraged us to come. Her comfy bed and nice leisurely breakfasts in the morning, with the four of us reading the Wall Street Journal and the SF Chronicle together sounded relaxing. We started listening for alerts about the spreading Caldor fire by installing the app for a Reno news station on my phone, and we all gathered around the TV for news of the debacle in Afghanistan. 

Doug and I decided to use our time well since we were in the Bay Area. The former store that he had in Berkeley had been vacant for about 5 months, so we went over with gardening tools borrowed from Lorraine and tackled the yard. I pruned the rose bushes and Doug raked up about 6 bags of huge maple leaves.

The next day we continued our project, and bought some succulents and gazanias for the window boxes on the sunny side, and some begonias for the other side that has more shade. Now it looks more rentable.

Things weren't looking good for poor Tahoe though. The AQI was reported at about 450, and the blaze was creeping toward Echo summit and had jumped Hwy 50. We sat with teary eyes as we saw videos of the area of the road when you have what the reporter called an "Aha!" moment. Normally you could suddenly see beautiful Lake Tahoe, but now smoke prevented that. Fire had fallen down into the valley below and was causing what they called "spot fires" in Christmas Valley, where some of our friends live.  Doug was asked if we would like to stay in my sister's place at Bodega Bay for a few days, and we of course, said "Yes!" We have many happy memories there, one of which Doug proposed to me, and I said "Yes!". 

 

Our time there was idyllic, the sea air, going to see the Bodega Head, looking for possible whales passing by,..... but we felt like we were cheating. Some evacuees where sleeping in Walmart parking lots, for heaven sake, and here we were going out to lunch at the Main Street Grill in Guerneville. We had driven to Guerneville to shop at the Safeway, since it was cheaper than the small, but cute store around Bodega Bay, and we stocked up for our stay.

On Sunday we went to mass at St. Theresa's church right in the town of Bodega, where "The Birds" was filmed. The schoolhouse that's in the movie is right around the block. We went for a little ride around the area afterward,  in denial about what could be happening up in Tahoe.

Thinking we might be away from Tahoe for quite awhile, we tried to forward our mail to El Cerrito, but they wouldn't let us do it online. It said you had to come in person. The phone line to the post office just rang, with no message tape. They were closed. When we looked online, it said that Tahoe mail had all been forwarded to Carson City, NV. We had also left our California recall ballots on our coffee table in Tahoe, so we called the election office and had them send another ballot to El Cerrito, in case we're still there.

Everything's becoming so unsettling. We're getting tired of living out of suitcases now, after not quite getting over our big trip across country to see my new granddaughter. This is getting old now. We'd like to be in our own bed, but we wonder if we'll be seeing our nice, king-sized one again. I worry about all the plants and trees I've planted, and if the sprinkler system has been left on to keep them alive.

We've put together an entire 500 piece jigsaw puzzle and watched every news piece that we could find about the Caldor fire and the poor people in Afghanistan. After hearing that South Lake Tahoe is under mandatory evacuation, we have decided that we should leave Bodega and head for Richmond to my house that is rented, but we have access to the basement apartment, where son John lives. News of the fire getting close to our area is making this very real now. Folks have been calling and emailing us to make sure we're okay. One friend said "You must be in agony, worrying about your home." We looked at each other and decided that there wasn't anything there that we couldn't replace, and our "agony level" was at about 2. On the way there, we stopped at a Kohl's store to add on to our meager wardrobe, which is short of underwear and socks, and t-shirts, and pants, since we weren't planning on such a long trip.

Living back at the old house is a strange thing, since, for one thing, we're staying under a family of five that are living above us in the main part of the house, and we can hear them clomping around, and going up and down stairs.

I'm down in a room that has a lot of history. I never lived here myself, but now I know what all the folks that did, heard from our family living above them.

For one thing, when Jennie took tap-dance lessons at six years old, she used to practice her "shuffle-ball-changes" on the wooden floor in the front hall. I imagine Nana, Walt's Godmother, who we took care of, loved to hear that. She never complained though.

I've been thinking of all the different people that I rented this room to to make some extra money. So many of them have passed on, but memories of them have been coming back to me. There was Nana, who actually died here, in her hospital bed. When I came into her room, I'd say, "Hi Butterscotch Sundae!" since she loved them so much, and if I anticipated her wishes, she'd say, "You're just like Johnny at the rathole!"

My mother-in-law, Tutu, said her prayers from her little Catholic book, told us jokes, dressed up each day with her muu-muu, with matching jewelry and shoes, and entertained and counseled my son Lucas and his friends. She sat in her chair and washed our dog Tessa's face tenderly each day with a washcloth. Tessa adored her.

For about a year, I rented to a stroke patient, a former customer of mine at Baker's Square, who heard about how I had been taking care of Walt, my husband, who also had a stroke. We sort of adopted him into the family, even taking him with us on little vacations. He was Polish, and when we took him to Costco he was astonished to see the array of products, remembering the lack he experienced when he was younger in Poland.

Even Doug's son Matt came to live with us with his two young daughters when he was going through a messy divorce. By this time, both of my kids had moved out, and it was fun to have the grandchildren in the house, doing artwork and learning to play the piano.

Now here we were, ourselves. We sleep well here, almost too well. My early alarms go off on my phone, and then we keep on sleeping until 9:30 or even 10, not having a real reason to get up. Voices are heard upstairs, people are coming down the stairs outside our door to do their laundry, a cat meows, and the familiar train whistle blows in the distance. We are starting to feel as if we might be a little depressed. We have friends and family close by, and have visited with them some, but just busy ourselves during the day buying things we need to make ourselves comfortable. It's frustrating that there's no wi-fi here, but John instructed me how to use my phone to get on a Personal Hotspot, and then I could hook my laptop up to that, and we could watch movies on Netflix. I even found we could watch some news on Pluto TV on the computer. We feel desperate for news, looking constantly for how high the air quality numbers are, feeling sad for the folks that will be returning to a pile of cinders where their home once was. Then it's time to sleep again.

Our big project on Labor Day was to make ourselves chicken soup in the crockpot. Doug did his usual job as sous chef, and after I collected some herbs and spices from Grace for seasoning, it was delicious. We left 2 chicken breasts in the bottom of the pot, whole, so we would be able to make chicken sandwiches with them later. Pretty crafty, I think.

Next day we hear that Tahoe residents are being changed to an evacuation warning, not mandatory, and are able to return home. We love that idea, but hem and haw about whether we should go, since the air quality is still in the 200's. Deciding to go for it, we packed up our bags and all of our food, including the leftover soup in a plastic container, cleaned up our room and left town. We both felt anxious and shaky, and I felt nervous driving at first. They say that being depressed can contribute to that.

Before leaving, we put in our destination on GPS, knowing that our usual Hwy 50 would be closed, and the route we'd take would be a little longer on Hwy 80..... but at around Sacramento, the British lady's voice on our GPS announced that "because of a road closure ahead, your route has been changed". Doug looked and saw that the new route had us traveling much further, all the way over to Reno and then Carson City, and then back up to Tahoe. Feeling even more discombobulated at this news of another 2 hours added on to our drive, we tried to find out if maybe the fire had jumped over to the northern side of the lake and closed the road there too. Nothing was on the news on the car radio, and wouldn't you know it? Google wouldn't come up on our phone! We decided to press on, and try our original way, and if there was actually a road block we would have to obey. About 1/3 of the vehicles on the road were Highway Patrol cars or emergency vehicles, or fire trucks, which was pretty disconcerting. We saw a sign at an exit for a Highway Patrol office, but it had closed 3 minutes before. 

Finally, we came to Truckee, and then finding the turn-off for South Lake Tahoe, we took it. No signs of road closures. Hallelujah! Soon after that we saw the beautiful lake. The sky was pretty clear, but smelled smoky. We could see across, but the south shore was enveloped in smoke.

The sun was starting to set and was so beautiful (smoke actually makes for gorgeous sunsets), we stopped to take a picture just before we got to Zephyr Cove. Finally driving through town at Stateline, we saw a whole army of firefighters walking past a casino. I wish I would have had the presence of mind to clap my hands out the window or honk my horn in thanks for all they've done. 

Driving through the familiar gates of our condo, we honked our arrival, but no one heard us. I think there are only a handful that have moved back in since yesterday. It's eerily quiet, as we walk down our path and discover that thankfully the sprinkling system had never been turned off. We had been worried that all the plants and trees that I had planted would be dried up. But no. They had some ashes on their leaves, but most were pretty healthy, also thanks to a neighbor who watered for me as long as she stayed. First thing I did was fill the blue water bowl I leave outside for the birds and other animals. It was pretty ashy too, and who knows? One of those bears we've been hearing about that are roaming around might want to quench his thirst.

Next thing was to light our electric fireplace and sit in our comfy mission style recliners and give thanks for our nice cozy condo to live in. We both notice the blue feeling leaving us.

On the website, Eastern Sierra Fire and Ice, they had a reporter showing a map of what he called the Perfect Storm that saved South Lake Tahoe. When the fire started raging over Hwy 50 at Echo Summit, he said huge "perpendicular" winds threw fire over Christmas Valley, where there are a lot of homes, and on to the Western slope of the Sierra, heading toward Heavenly Valley, and only showering Christmas Valley with spot fires that could be handled. The area is still under evacuation, but he called this "the Christmas Valley Miracle". We'll take that. We felt that some of our prayers have been answered.

The next morning, I got up to feed my birds, squirrels and chipmunks some nuts and seeds. Only had one taker of each, but word will get out that I'm back, I'm sure. I doused all the plants with extra water from the hose, while wearing a face mask, for the smoke. The fire is only 50% contained, and hopefully firefighters can extinguish it completely. There is a chance that we might have to evacuate again, but for now, life is good.

Living in a Snow Globe

Ahead of me, out the picture window at my daughter and son-in-law's home in the Catskills, I can see  the nearby mountain. It has a grey look about it, with its leafless maples, ash, aspens and oaks. Each day however,  I notice a little more color on the red maples, their red buds are starting to show us that spring is here, just a glimpse of the glorious display of reds, oranges, yellows and purples that I've been told so much about.

Yesterday, April 21st, it started to snow! I could see the wind blowing flakes across the front of the mountain, and behind the stand of trees that runs down to a creek below. Snow starts to stick to the screens on the porch and on its red roof, and on the branches of the few pines. I was the only one excited about this, since everyone here has already experienced enough for this year. That's what happens when you're a "snowbird".... one who chases the sun, leaving Palm Springs when it's too hot, and arriving in Tahoe only for the last snow.

I, for one, was mesmerized by the flurries swirling around outside. The wind blows across my view and then catches the flakes in the crook of the house, swirling them out in the other direction, giving the effect of living in a snow globe.

I hold my very tiny, new grandbaby, and stand, rocking her in my arms, swaying back and forth in front of the window, telling her about all that was going on outside that she might observe for herself some day. There's even a pond, complete with newts and frogs, that her sister will be happy to explain and explore more fully with her. Big sister is just the one to train her in making forts from fallen branches. 

For now, she's not interested in looking out the window.....it's too bright. "But it's your first snow!", I say. She squints and turns her eyes from the light, preferring to peck around on my neck hoping to find something more appealing there. She's fussy, and I resort to a song I sang to her mom, "For Baby". "I walk in the rain by your side, I cling to the warmth of your tiny hand...." Like magic, she calms and closes her eyes, seeming to enjoy hearing my voice as it rumbles in my chest when I hit the low notes. My chin touches the top of her head and I feel her soft hair. Life is good.

The next day, the snow continued, and since the temps dropped at night, there were icicles hanging from the eaves of the house. When I reported that to my daughter, she said, "Oh no! We've had enough of that! It's time for Spring!". Trying to make myself useful, I put on my brand new snow boots that I bought specifically for this trip, and took a walk down the hill to fill the bird feeder with seeds. With all the commotion of having a new baby, I thought that maybe the feeder was being neglected. My boots made a crunching noise as I made my way down to the post, where the feeder was hanging. I filled it carefully with the scoop provided in the jar, screwed the top back on the long tube, and hung it back up on the nail. Taa-daa! The walk back up the hill was more difficult, since I could feel it in my knee. Too much sitting, I guess, after all the self-isolating.

Warming up in the house and holding the baby again, I looked up from her sweet sleeping face to see a squirrel going at the bird feeder by hanging upside down. He had knocked off the top of it, and now was trying to eat the seeds from the random holes in the tube! I jumped up to get a closer look, and there was movement out of the corner of my vision....an animal, brown, and about the size of a beaver, but with a different tail. The word "marmot" comes to mind. It walks over the snow-covered grass right below us, chomping on the chilly greens. When I looked it up on Google (of course), I was right, but it's also called a groundhog. I'm thinking that he was disappointed to have snow on the ground again. He looked pretty cute crawling around out there, but when he sat up, he had a surprisingly ferocious looking face. Maybe tomorrow I'll give the bird feeder one more try, screwing the top on more carefully, but right now I can see why some folks are so anti-squirrel.

The snow continues to dust the trees on the hillside, and swirl past my window. I hope the snow doesn't shock the new growth on the trees. I imagine they'll probably just appreciate the moisture and be encouraged to grow even more. 

I sit back down with baby, wrapped up in a warm blanket. The wind is still blowing the snow from right to left in front of the forest of leafless trees. Drifts of snow are blown suddenly from the bows of the big pine tree, and fluffy flakes dance in front of the window.

Yep, we're in a snow globe. We rock and sit near the fire by the wood stove. Grandma reads.

One month later, we're back at our summer home in Tahoe, and on May 20th, it has started to snow, to everyone's surprise. The weather app on our phone kept predicting it, but even that morning, the sky was sunny. After lunch, little hard flakes fell, even though the sun was peeking through a few clouds. I wondered if I should be looking for a rainbow. We drove along, doing errands and watched the flakes aim at our window. Back at home, the snow started building up, covering the bushes and some of the new hollyhocks and pansies I had recently planted. Tulips were weighed down with snow, and the two tomatoes were already coated, so I guess it was too late to save them from frost. I'm hoping all the plants will take it in their stride.

Inside, we opened up our blinds wide, so we could watch the changing landscape. The stairs and railing had accumulated about 3 inches. I didn't want to be a stick in the mud indoors, so I donned my aforementioned snow boots, and went for a little walk. Flakes tried to accumulate in my warm pockets and collected on my hat. I only saw one other person out there, taking a bag of garbage out to the bin. She was so bundled up in her well-worn parka with a hood, and boots on that I didn't recognized my neighbor at first. I smiled and said, "Isn't it glorious?!!", and she just groaned and said something about "I'm just ready for summer." 

I wandered back to our condo, red cheeked, and happy. I have a better relationship with my squirrels in Tahoe. Since I'm running low on nuts and seeds to give the critters outside, I made my specialty for them.....two big peanut butter sandwiches, cut into little squares, and scattered them on the ground to watch the grey squirrels, chickarees, Robins and Stellar Jays come after them. Then I heated some water in our electric tea pot to add to their water bowl I have outside that had become all slushy with snow. 

Delighted with the day, I came inside to watch the show through the window. The American Robin drinking from the bowl, was the biggest I'd ever seen.....I think about to deliver, and the squirrels and even chipmunks seemed to think there was enough to go around. The snow continued to swirl around, some of it heavy enough in the branches of the pines to fall off in great plops, and then blow around in the slight wind. 

Once again I'm in a snow globe. Inside this one though, my husband and I judiciously work on a new jigsaw puzzle and have a cup of tea, while the fireplace glows in the corner....cozy and warm while the snow whirls outside.

One Maria Too Many

One of the good things about marrying my husband, is that he was used to having a cleaning lady come to the house every two weeks. So when he and a couple of his kids moved over to my house he kept up the habit. I called her "Mi Esposa", (my wife, in Spanish), not to her face, of course. Her name was Maria, and we hit it off famously.

When we moved to Palm Springs to a mobile home that we call "our cottage", the place was so small, we decided to only have someone come help us clean every couple of months, usually if company was about to arrive. We got a reference from a neighbor, and this woman came to our little trailer and accepted us as clients. When I asked her her name, she said, "Maria".....

So, every winter, when we're in Palm Springs, we call for Maria and her crew to come clean. They always marvel at the changes we've made, like painting, or new curtains, or lately, the new washer and dryer. When we were getting ready this time to make the change to the north, we had scheduled a cleaning day, but there were still a lot of painting and plumbing projects going on. It just didn't seem sensible to have the cleaners come when the place was in such an uproar. Doug called Maria to postpone for 2 days later. He usually does the arrangement, since he likes to practice his best Spanish with her. She answered and said that would be fine, and for some reason, asking if we would be there. Doug said, "Por supuesto!" ("Of course!", in Spanish). She'd see us on Friday.

Since the pressure was off to finish the projects, we went out to lunch. When we came back, the strong odor of something like Lysol surprised us as we opened the door. The house was clean, the bed made nicely, and the kitchen floor was mopped, ......except the 2 rooms where the projects were happening. 

"But I told her to come back in two days! Her crew must not have gotten the message!", he said. When he called Maria back, she said that she never got the message. Puzzled, and figuring it was just some sort of language misunderstanding, she agreed to come back in 2 days and finish the job. We'd pay her then.

Later in the day, we got a call from our property manager for the house in Richmond. He said the tenants were irate that "a friend of our son", who lives in the apartment downstairs, came into the house through the front door which was unlocked, evidently looked around, and then went in to the bathroom and used it. When the flushing was heard, their twin girls, who were home alone at the time, came from their room and asked what she was doing there. They told her to leave, or they would call the police.

Confused, our cleaner, Maria, left the house, and seeing son John working in the garden, she asked him if we were home. He was surprised to see her after so long, and said, "No Maria. They're living down in Palm Springs." He called us soon after, and told us he saw Maria, and that got our minds reeling.

I looked at our phone to see our last calls, and discovered that Doug had chosen "Maria Lopez cleaner", rather than "Maria Palm Springs" from the list of contacts. 

Poor, bewildered Maria! No wonder she sounded kind of hesitant to come. We imagined her, walking in the door, as usual, but finding it totally different looking from what she was used to. Before we rented it out, we totally painted and carpeted it and did new window treatments. Now it was decorated in the tenants taste, which I would love to check out, but it must have been so confusing to her. Then, I suppose she thought she might as well take a pee before getting down to work, and then was discovered by two irate teenagers! 

One lesson learned. Apologize to Maria, but make sure we have the right number.