No Smoke Without Fire.
Staying Alert
7/26/20264 min read
SUNDAY: I suppose it's fair to say that when you live in or near a forest, you stay alert to signs of fire, so when a faint haze began to fill our valley, I felt slightly alarmed. We were sitting on our neighbour's balcony, last evening. "It's drifting over from the fires in Bordeaux," F. informed us, as he offered us another beer. However, I slept well, knowing that we had had a small amount of rain that day, and the ground was damp. But as over 220,000 people have already been evacuated from their homes in South Western France , because of fires, I will never be complacent . Today dawned much cooler, but even so, our long range forecast predicts temperatures close to 40C for the next two weeks, so I shall remain on alert. B. asked me if I could smell smoke. Indeed I could. However, there was a westerly wind, and I was reassured that this slight acridness was coming from the fires around Cap Ferret, to the north of Bordeaux, a fair distance away.
I miss my daily walk and currently try to swim a few lengths instead to keep fit. As it was cooler today, we decided to take a walk. It felt good to step out from the gate again as we turned towards Aubaygues; to renew our familiarity with the forest. There were some surprises in store. Our neighbour D. has put her two horses in the big field with the large tumbled rock (much-prized grazing is in short supply around the village.) There they stood, nose to tail, in the shade of the hedge. When they saw us, they imagined that we had brought hay, and wandered over to their water trough. Kyle, the white pony, lost his original white companion Luigi in this very field, when Luigi investigated a nest of processionary caterpillars.
All the birds were silent, but still, life continues, even in the very hottest days. A small brown grasshopper crossed my path. There was a flash of bight scarlet as he leapt into the air, telling me that this was a red-winged grasshopper. In spite of the dryness, a few wildflowers were evident in the grass: spiky blue globe thistles, pink knap weed , creamy carrot flowers , and a tiny campanula almost hidden away. Eryngium (hardy sea holly )with its sharp pointed leaves was pushing up through the stony path, although sadly, its blue/mauve flowers were not yet fully formed. This makes a wonderful plant for any dry rock garden. Whatever we humans do to ruin this world, I have every confidence that nature will fight back.
MONDAY, and the news is worse. As we woke this morning, the haze from the fires around Bordeaux was thicker than ever and the air smelled of baking bread. Fortunately this seemed to disperse as the winds changed , although the air quality around Lodève is currently classed as mauvais (bad). But for those living close to the fire, many of whom have had to leave their homes, the situation must be dire. Over 270,000 people , homeowners and holidaymakers, have now been evacuated, and they are being accommodated in temporary shelters. Firefighters, many of them volunteers, continue to struggle against this unprecedented inferno. France has never seen the like. What's more, with the fourth heatwave of this summer in the offing, who knows what will happen? Are we personally worried? Of course we are. However , as there are 17million hectares of forest in France of which so far this year, 100,000 hectares have burned, I tell myself that the odds of our actual locality being affected are small. Nonetheless, I feel grateful for the friends who write to express concern on our behalf, and we shall certainly continue to keep a weather eye open. Today we searched out an old cat basket from the garage for Léo. He certainly wouldn't take kindly to confinement, nor to being taken away from 'his' forest, but then, as they say in France, 'au cas où ' (just in case!)
