The loggers stopped at my aunt and uncle’s logging supply shop early in the morning to pick-up hard hats. They were driving north to help fight the fires, drawing lines around the burned Collier State Park, and trying to stop the flames from burning up the logging museum.
Crackle. Burn. Feel the heat. Breathe in the smoke. No way to stop, sometimes. Let it burn.
Other times – there are ways to stop. Dig the lines. Fly overhead for a vantage to drop the magic alchemy to quell the flames. We all try, to fight our fires.
Sometimes they are the phoenix, for us. Sometimes they are a complete loss. Sometimes they are heartbreaking. Sometimes they burn out. Sometimes, they don’t. Sometimes they can be controlled. Sometimes, they can’t. Sometimes they are needed. Sometimes, they aren’t. Sometimes they burst. Sometimes they hurt. Sometimes they heal.
Sometimes they are just as they are. Each fire needing a different approach based on conditions, terrain, history, climate, potential, the day, the moment, the years past, the years to come.
We fight our fires, and those of others.
Thank you, firefighters.