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. I slept well, knowing that that day we had had a small amount of rain, and that 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 has 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. As we woke, 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 venture out. It felt good to step out from the gate again as we turned towards Aubaygues; to renew our familiarity with the forest. However, there were 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 processionaires (pine moth caterpillars.) I looked over towards The Escandorgue Mountains in the west and noticed an an even thicker haze. This was following "la route du soleil, " the A75 motorway which runs N/S.
All the birds were silent, but still, life continues, even in the very hottest days. A red winged grasshopper crossed my path. I only knew what this dull brown insect was , when he leapt in the air with a flash of bright scarlet. In spite of the dryness, a few wildflowers were evident in the grass . I spotted spiky blue globe thistles, pink knap weed and creamy carrot flowers , while eryngium (hardy sea holly )was pushing through the stony path. Sadly, its blue/mauve flowers were not yet fully formed. 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 the haze was thicker in the valley and the air smelled of baking bread. Fortunately this seemed to disperse as the morning continued, although the air quality around Lodève is currently classed as mauvais (bad). But for those living close to the fire the situation must be dire. Over 270,000 people have been evacuated from their homes, 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, but then, as they say in France, 'au cas où ' (just in case!)
