It was a glorious Labor Day morning in Boulder. Husband and I were up early to join some new friends for a hike in the foothills. We climbed Flagstaff Mountain at an enjoyable pace, stopping frequently to take in the increasingly amazing view of the Boulder Valley. Our friends’ dogs sniffed and played along the trail. At the summit, we spent a few minutes soaking up the panoramic view, and learning (from one of our new friends, a historian) about the history of the beautiful flagstone amphitheatre that sits atop the mountain. As we stood on the stage of the theatre, Husband said that it would be an awesome place to perform a Greek tragedy, and I agreed. History seemed to whisper to us from the stones themselves.
Rested and inspired, we began our decent. About halfway down, we saw a white cloud come over the foothills. After a few moments, it became clear that it was not an ordinary cloud, but a cloud of smoke. It grew alarmingly fast, and began to make its way down the hills toward the Boulder Valley. By the time we reached the bottom of Flagstaff Mountain, the smoke cloud had covered Boulder. It was as if someone had thrown an enormous blanket across the entire city. As we drove home a little while later, we could smell the smoke in the air strongly, and it obscured the bright sunshine. It was bizarre to look up and see the sun muted by the smoke and ash; it was there, but its warmth and clarity were gone. Little pieces of ash began to rain down like dry, papery snowflakes. Upon arriving home, we hurried inside to close our windows and escape from the frightening place that outside had become. We both descended on our laptops for more information; we needed to make sense of what was happening.
On this past Labor Day Monday, we (at the time, unknowingly) witnessed the early stages of the Fourmile Canyon Fire, which has now burned more than 6,000 acres and destroyed more than 160 homes; thankfully and miraculously, no lives have been lost. But the fire is the worst fire in Colorado’s history in terms of property damage. And it has made life in Boulder quite interesting and stressful this past week. Air quality in Boulder has varied from fine to terrible depending on the direction of the wind. Regardless of the smoke situation, anxiety has been thick in the air as people wondered where the fire would go next and whether the incoming weather systems would hinder or help the fire-fighting efforts. At this point, most Boulderites either know someone whose home was destroyed, or whose home is in a current evacuation zone and may still be in danger. Husband and I know a lovely woman, a friend of a friend, who lost her home on Monday. It’s very disturbing to think of being homeless in such a profound way. This past week, I’ve thought a lot about what I would take if we ever had to evacuate. It is extremely unlikely that our home is in danger from this fire, but all of the destruction is just too close for comfort. We can see the smoke clinging to the foothills, and they are certainly not far from us at all. It makes you think about your home in an entirely new way.
Wednesday brought a small reprieve. Rain soaked the area for more than an hour, and while it did not end the fire, it did give the firefighters the opportunity they had been hoping for to get a little bit ahead of the flames. Wednesday was a good day for another reason, also. Husband and I brought home a beautiful 1-year-old guinea pig named Oreo from the Humane Society of Boulder Valley. We had been waiting for a pig for a long time, so we’re really excited that Oreo has joined our family. She’s been a lot of fun so far. I’ll try to get a picture of her posted soon; right now, she’s still a bit camera shy, but we may be able to get around that by bribing her with watermelon, which seems to be her favorite food of the moment.
As we walked out of the shelter to bring Oreo home, the rain was ending, and a spectacular double rainbow stretched across the sky; we could see all the way from one end to the other! The air smelled clean; no hint of smoky smell lingered. The rainbows were a powerful sign of hope to everyone. A whole group of us stood in the parking lot staring up, letting the rainbows soak into our worried souls and soothe them. Boulder needed those rainbows this week. I am grateful for them.
Thursday morning brought the news that the fire was 30% contained, a huge gain due in no small part to the cloudy weather and rain the day before. But it also brought new worries; a cold front was supposed to arrive in Boulder and the foothills on Thursday evening, bringing with it very strong winds which had the potential to reignite hot spots and blow embers outside of the containment lines. People within the Boulder city limits in western-most Boulder (nearest the foothills), were, for the first time this week, asked to be prepared to evacuate overnight if necessary. At my chorus rehearsal last night, the collective anxiety level of the group rose each time a wind gust blew through the windows. The air began to smell more and more smoky, so our director let us go early so that people could take care of themselves and their homes. We all left feeling scared.
But we were lucky. The amazing fire-fighting team held the containment line overnight, in spite of the gusting winds, and today is a sunny, perfect fall day in Boulder. No additional homes burned during the night. We are not out of the woods yet, as it is still windy today, but the worst of it was during the night, and a new day has dawned. I am definitely breathing easier, literally and figuratively. It now seems possible that this fire will be extinguished. I am hoping for calm winds, and several of my friends have been suggesting rain dances. But even if the weather is not perfect, I have great confidence in the firefighters. I also have confidence in my community to take care of those who have lost everything in this fire. The outpouring of community spirit and offers to help have definitely been an inspiration to everyone during this stressful week.
The fire still burns, but 100% containment is within reach now, probably 3 to 5 days away. I am filled with immense gratitude for the fire-fighting team that is still working round the clock to protect my city, both on the ground and from the air (we live near the airfield, so all week the air tankers and helicopters have been flying over our house). I’m heartbroken for the people who’ve lost their homes, and I also find that I’m appreciating the little townhouse that Husband, Oreo, and I share more than ever. Empathy and gratitude are all mixed up inside me, but at last, the stress is beginning to subside. I can feel my body slowly unclenching after this week of fear and worry, and I am grateful today to be sitting in a coffee shop blogging, just like any other beautiful fall day in Boulder. The fire is still burning, but life is also moving forward again.
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