After the Fire / A Return to Cobb & Boggs

 Mornings are quiet,

and as the sun was cresting over my yard I took a walk around my Lower Lake property, coffee in hand, enjoying the 75 degree temps that were already climbing by 6:30 am. It would reach 106 later and I would certainly not be out in it. By July 27th, I’ve already had my fill of triple digits. I prefer a nice 85-90 degrees thank you.

A promise of a cooler location, (not by much), was on my itinerary today. I went to meet my friend April, up on Cobb Mountain for coffee, doughnuts, and a walk on the recently re-opened Boggs Mountain Trails. I have to confess, although I’ve lived in Lake County, since I was 3 years old and only moved away once for a total of six months, I have NEVER walked through Boggs. Never even been there, to my recollection, until April drove me through there after the Valley Fire devastated much of it, and the trails were closed. I had to know what everyone was talking about missing. A local author, Kit DeCanti, has even written mystery books about Boggs, so I had to know what all the hype was about. Especially since my book AFTER THE FIRE, was prompted by the effects of the horrific fire.

After our heads were properly caffeinated, and stomachs were filled with sugary goodness from Dirty Girl Doughnuts, (something you will read about in an upcoming post on my OTHER blog, romancetravelandfood.com ), we drove to the Cal Fire Station and the Boggs Mountain Trails. Some trails were still off limits. CLOSED, the signs said at the creek trail that was April’s favorite. We assumed because there were still too many dangerous trees that haven’t been addressed yet. Still, the morning air was rich with the scent of pine, damp earth, and it simply felt nourishing just to be there.

The sunlight filtered through the tall trees and a soft breeze caressed our skin, cooling us just enough to make the walk enjoyably comfortable. Even though there were a tremendous amount of fallen and burned trees, mother nature has this way of never giving up. There was evidence of hope everywhere. Green trees that survived were neighboring burned ones that had green foliage sprouting everywhere from their blackened trunks. Also, we saw what looked like newly planted trees along the utility roads, giving nature a boost at replenishing what was lost.

The thistle was even beautiful, with it’s pink color standing out against the browns and greens of the forest. I was starting to see what everyone has been so excited about. I also could imagine the way it once was, thick, full, and secluded from the busy world. Now I understand how those who frequently sought refuge there were so mournful at losing it. At least for awhile.

When April and I turned back to return to our responsibilities for the day, we spoke of how it might be changed, but it is still a wonderful place. It’s never going to be the same again, but a different beauty with a story of survival to pass on for generations to come. I think that makes it very special.

The land, like people, builds character over time. Our scars are part of our history. They are what make us who we are and who we are to become. I think the earth is no different. Surely, the story of this beloved place is going to live on much longer than any of us. As I drove back off the mountain today, I rolled the windows down, let the wind blow through my hair, and smiled at how very lucky we all are to just be. I feel very lucky to have such wonderful friends, ( thanks for today April ), and to live in such a marvelous place, Lake County.