On Sept 9, 2015 at 2:26 PM a tree fell across a power line near the town of Jackson California, causing a widespread local power outage and sparking a fire that was to become known as The Butte Wildfire. It rapidly grew to 14,500 acres.
Twelve hours later in the middle of the night my house was awakened by a reverse 911 call from the Sheriff's office, warning us to be prepared to evacuate.
In the pitch black darkness, by flashlight my elderly mother and I gathered her four cats and put them in carriers; we grabbed what necessary personal items we could think of....(What do you grab in the middle of the night? What really is essential?)
Carriers, pet food, bottled water, two suitcases, two briefcases of vital papers were piled in the front hall. 
I dashed to the 2 dozen boxes of Jody Scott manuscripts, papers and correspondence I'd recently shipped down from Seattle to prepare for the archive that'd be their permanent home. What could I rescue? What was there room for after four cats, one dog and two humans with their necessary luggage? I grabbed one ream of collected-together stories- not half of the total but at least something. The novels were easier, one copy of each, but none of the preserved preliminary drafts, none of the hand-written first drafts.... and nothing of correspondence, professional or personal...

​Cots were set up in every available convention space, a cafeteria and gathering room was filled with rows and rows of tables. The casino fed us abundantly and well. The Sheriff's Office and CalFire provided twice daily updates. As more and more people poured in, eventually the entire hotel, the entire RV park and several overflow parking lots were also given over to house and feed fire evacuees.
I cannot praise highly enough the generosity of Jackson Rancheria Casino Resort that took such good care of us all. If you are ever in this part of California, please do patronize them.
The evacuees, forced from their homes, sleeping on cots with no privacy, no idea if they'd have a home to go back to, or when, behaved with stellar aplomb and civility. Everyone rallied in a way that showed the nobility and intrinsic goodness of people.
After 5 days we were able to return home.  We were lucky. The fire never did reach my town, instead it turned south and devastated, in some cases destroyed the small communities of Calaveras County.
The fire burned for another 2 weeks, destroying nearly 900 homes and outbuildings, and burning over 70,000 acres. Two people were killed. And this wasn't even the worst fire of the fall of 2015. Soon the Valley fire would prove even more destructive. 
On Facebook someone posted video taken with their phone as they evacuated; it is well worth clicking over there to watch it. As much as anything can it takes you into what the experience feels like. I sincerely wish none of you ever experience it for real.
-Mary Whealen

post by Mary Whealen
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Oh not ALL of California, just that "other" CA, you know the part of it away from the coast and well-known population centers..... the part of it where most of us could afford to live.  (Because real estate in CA is insanely expensive, but this is not a blog post about that.) 
    Most of it has to do with my dog, but a lot of it is cultural as well.  Where I live right now is the California outside that desirable coastal range where most of the iconic locations are; the inland valleys of desert, farmland, ranches, former gold rush country, small towns and mid-size cities, rural, conservative, with flora and fauna that takes itself very seriously.
    Now, when most of the northern hemisphere is blossoming with springtime optimism, here in the other California it is blossoming poison oak. Everywhere!
    For most people nighttime temps above 55 degrees are a welcome antithesis to winter's icy grip, here, where winter is so mild it reminds me of Seattle's summers,  it means mosquitoes carrying heartworms and a new monthly drug to give my dog.  It means burs of every conceivable shape and design, all with murderous intent toward all dogs but especially long-haired breeds. (There is one with a viciously barbed point atop a twisted shaft, with a semi-circular hoop at the other end that looks likes like a piece of miniaturized mining equipment.)
    These developments are followed by the beginning of rattle snake season, and minor annoyance of scorpions. Which is followed by daytime temperatures in the high 90's, sometimes 100's so that one must be up and out at the crack of dawn to get the dog walked before temp's top 80 degrees.  The sun shines down relentlessly, day after day after day without respite, making me long for the grey skies and drizzle of Seattle!