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Ash Falling Like Snow


There are major areas of fire two miles to my west, and about three to my north. A heavy blanket of acrid smoke hangs in my backyard, and chunks of ash spiral down from the sky like dirty snow. My lungs are sore from a cold, and the smoke isn’t helping. The sun is beautiful, a blood red wafer through the haze. Once it sets, the 90-degree-plus heat should abate, and that will help the firefighters. Right now, the direction of the wind is everything. I may have to evac if it turns to the south or east. Meanwhile, the fire crews, including ground units and water dropping helicopters, have been doing an astounding job of saving homes. Over 20,000 acres of ground have burned, but only one dwelling.


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