High Fire Danger, No Fireworks

(Based on my comment at my Gunbologger compadre Say Uncle’s post regarding 4th of July fireworks and the nannys among us): We now live in a very dry, very high-fire danger area so our house insurance is up a tad. Ka-ching$ !
One fire is already (still) burning next to a reservoir, and then another started across the lake. Last week late at night some dumbass drunk lady down in the flatlands flicked a butt out a window and five trailers went up in smoke in a matter of minutes, burnt to the ground and five families who were poor to begin with – so poor they didn’t even have big-screen TVs and A/C – now have even less zip-nada-squat. Just about every morning we awake to news that somedude started a dumpster-fire (sometimes two!) in the lousy part of Sacramento (or Stockton, or…) so there’s a fire-bug out there getting his jollies.
On the 4th itself a 40-acre fire (probably started by a homeless camper) nearly burnt-down the State Fair Grounds. Twelve other wildfires fires are still going around the state with most of them contained except two. If this were an ordinary-sized (East-Coast) state you would have news-anchors going on breathlessly about how there are fires from Florida to Vermont – The Whole Est Coast Is On Fire!! – except it’s not. You guys back-East and in the Midwest get all kinds of Summertime damp and moisture and even hurricanes, and that’s its own problem. Flooding. We don’t get any of that – not until December.
Today’s a lot better but all last week from our vantage point in the hills we could see a line of thick yellow air down in the valley and smell the smoke up here in the hills. Seems like everybody owns guns up here – this IS The West after all, the Mother Lode where cowboys still herd cattle – but nobody acts like the 4th of July is an Arab Wedding party with guns ablaze and shootin’ into the air. We have our own township fireworks over a lake on the Saturday-night before whatever the 4th is, because most serious capitalists here work even on the 4th – especially if it’s a weekday and can’t or won’t afford to take a day off.
You guys living in the Damp-Humid Zone where woodsy stuff doesn’t immediately go up in flames like you threw gasoline on it should be grateful I guess with all the Police laxity over fireworks – but it’s no fireworks out here in Dry-Diggin’s where the under-story ladder fuels are bone-dry and abundant on the ground. You often see signs posted on an old oak tree saying “Defensible Space” – but this is not an indication of crazy Gadsden flag waving Anti Gubb’mint NRA gun-nuts – we have plenty of those actually, every Tuesday at the American Legion post is a Tea Party Meeting night – but the “Defensible Space” signs are some guy with a wood-chipper looking for work clearing the too-abundant fire-hazards. We have done a lot of yardwork already clearing out those fuels immediately around us, and we’re lucky to be bounded by another street that acts as a fire-break. Last year while moving I guess we missed the fun; a fire broke out in the Nature Preserve above us and the street was soon full of fire trucks and prison-labor cutting back brush. Three plane-loads of fire-retardant were dropped. This year a couple of our neighbors are moving prized family heirlooms to safe-storage elsewhere, furniture that belonged to great-great grandma and the like needs to be in a safer environment… I guess I didn’t know that, but I really like it here.

About NotClauswitz

The semi-sprawling adventures of a culturally hegemonic former flat-lander and anti-idiotarian individualist, fleeing the toxic cultural smug emitted by self-satisfied lotus-eating low-land Tesla-driving floppy-hat wearing lizadroid-Leftbat Califorganic eco-tofuistas ~

5 thoughts on “High Fire Danger, No Fireworks

  1. I recall that when I first arrived in CA in ’77, there had been a 5 yr dry spell. That winter, it rained, and rained, and rained, and then it REALLY rained. Houses were sliding so far they needed new zip codes. This state seems to be just a collection of extremes in almost everything.

    And I had a choice of 750cc motorcycles, or a 500hp Mustang w/auto trans. Oh, joy…


    • Coming back from a dirt-riding trip in Redding back in the ’94(?) El Nino we drove down I-5 through the wettest, longest storm-weekend in history – which was fun back up in the mud on bikes, but the slog in trafffic to the BayArea was cruel and a bit dangerous. I had to keep saying, “it’s just water” and be glad we had the weight of the bikes in the back of the truck.


  2. Drytown indeed (the one hwy 49). As a young lad, I got to attend a few performances of the Clay Pipers there in the early 60’s.


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