Dick Smith Wilderness

Depression seems to be getting the better of me lately, and knowing that a little moving around seems sometimes to shake up the biochemicals, I dragged my ass out to the ocean again yesterday. 


 There I saw those little-bitty beach birds that run along the surf line in little herds picking madly away at the sand.  The sky in this photo shows signs of the Zaca fire.  It’s sort of yellow grey and not the more traditionally sky blue color.




On the way back from seeing the birds, I notice a large plume of smoke from the fire.  Such plumes are frequent, but this one was a bit different—though I don’t know if you can see it in this photo in that the very top or crest of the plume was a more traditional white could white while all of the lower part of it was your Zaca fire grayish brown color.   Why the top was white I couldn’t say.



Meanwhile people have given up washing their cars and have decided to embrace the more hip and up-to-date ash droppings look.


The fire continues apace, having now burnt up over 100,000 acres and is heading south, south east into something called the Dick Smith Wilderness Area.  I don’t know who Dick Smith was or is but there are said to be beers, deer, bobcats and other wild beasts in his area.  I hope the best for them in this time of troubles.

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