Fire

This past weekend marked the 4 year anniversary of the Witch Creek Fire which devastated many lives, ours included.  This tragic event has changed us in countless ways. 

Before the fire, we lived in a beautiful, sprawling Spanish hacienda with wraparound balconies and picturesque views.  Our two children were thriving at Light & Life Christian School and taking music lessons.  In spite of the warm weather, our Halloween decorations were out and we were making plans to spend Thanksgiving at a cabin in Big Bear.  Little did we know.

On Saturday, October 20, 2007, we went to a dinner party and had a fabulous evening with good friends.  It was the last carefree Saturday evening I would experience for a long time.

On the morning of Sunday, October 21, there was an ominous smell of smoke in the air.  Talking on the phone with my friend, I mentioned casually there must be a fire somewhere and our thoughts moved to the devastating Cedar Fire from four years earlier.  That fire had burned her brother’s house and come dangerously close to her own.

By Sunday evening, the Witch Creek Fire turned into a blazing inferno, moving swiftly down the mountain from Julian to Ramona.  We watched the news nervously and had a hard time sleeping due to the 100 mile per hour winds howling furiously around our house, the scraping of patio furniture across the balcony, and wind chimes clanging wildly.  From our bedroom window, we could see an eerie glow behind the distant mountain.

In the early morning hours of Monday, October 22, I was startled to see the distant glow had turned into giant flames marching down the mountain.  The sight was mesmerizing; frightening and magnificent at the same time.  At 4 AM, we received the reverse 911 call instructing us to evacuate.  We fled to a nearby high school and sat watching as a blood red sun rose to illuminate black clouds moving toward us.  The temperatures soared into the 90’s that day and the smoke filled air burned our eyes and made it hard to breathe.  Fearing for the safety of our kids and pets, we drove toward Temecula to find a hotel.  We got as far as Fallbrook when raging flames and billowing plumes of black smoke reached across the freeway and forced us to turn around and find an alternate route.  The roads were clogged with hundreds of evacuees just like us and what should have been a 40 minute drive turned into a grueling 5 ½ hour ordeal.

Our house burned to the ground on October 23, 2007.  As our roof crashed and burned, so did our way of life, our hopes and dreams.  Sometimes tragedies bring families closer together; other times they tear people apart.

Cuyamacas

Photo by Peggy Jones

Scotch and I in the Cuyamacas

Photo by Peggy Jones

October 15 – Horse Anniversary

This past Saturday, October 15^th, marked the one year anniversary with my paso fino, Scotchelo.  What a difference this partnership has made in my life, and, I’m guessing, his too.  His two previous owners had problems with him and therefore didn’t ride him much.  We went through a bumpy patch in the beginning until we got used to each other, and he has since proven to be Scotch, The Wonder-Horse.  He is friendly and cuddly, lowering his head to let me hug on his neck and shower his velvety nose with kisses.  He has lots of energy and loves to gait, but can also stand calmly and patiently while my friends and I stop for a picnic.  We have progressed from his refusal to set hoof in a tiny stream of water to playing in a belly deep pool and even splashing through the surf on the beach.

October 15, 2010 was a gray and misty day and started off badly.  My car was broken into that morning and my purse with all my identity was stolen.  Then there was The Incident, where my friend and I were traumatized when her horse slipped and fell on some slippery asphalt.  BUT:  Scotch came into my life that day and changed it for the better.  This past 10/15 was sunny and warm in contrast to last year, and Champagne Friend Peggy and I had a wonderful ride through the Ramona Grasslands.  We stopped at Cordiano Winery afterwards to toast the last of the golden late afternoon, the brilliant orange sunset, and my Scotchelo.  Cheers!

A Visit with My Sister

Champagne Sister (and Real Sister) Laura has a wonderful property in Sun City with horses, dogs, cats and a goat.  My Buddy, an Arab mix, lives there and serves as a great excuse for us to get together once a week.  Her house is currently decorated for Halloween with whimsical scarecrows and witches, and big, fat pumpkins and apples from a recent visit to Apple Hill.  We visit in her cozy kitchen over coffee latte´s and pumpkin bread and try to go for a ride before the sun beats too intensely.  The horses plod along lazily in the hot late-morning sun and my legs are sweating in the saddle.  Back at the house, I give Buddy a bath with the garden hose and he looks grateful for the cool water splashing down his neck and back.  Then we let him “mow” the front lawn while we sit under a shady tree with a picnic lunch.  I look forward to our visits and rides, and am thankful I have the time to indulge in my favorite pastime.  

A Ride in the Cuyamacas

Champagne Sisters Peggy, Nicole and I went for a fabulous ride yesterday in the Cuyamacas. It was a picture perfect day; the weather warm and sunny with a little bite in the breeze that suggested summer is gone and autumn is in the air.  We had a bit of a mishap when Peggy’s horse decided to make a break for it through some bushes and trees in his attempt to avoid a water crossing.  Peggy stayed glued to the saddle, but got scraped up in the process, leaving her with a sexy, red rash of a war wound on her chin.  Other than that, our ride was beautiful and uneventful.  We rode trails surrounded by lush green Manzanita, then followed an old dirt road surrounded by evidence of the Witch Creek Fire.  It was weird to be riding in an area which was the source of an event that has changed my life so dramatically.  Blackened, twisted trees cover the hills, painful reminders of the raging flames roaring through here in 2007.  The area is peaceful and quiet now, bathed in the golden light of a Sunday afternoon.  The only sounds are the horses’ hooves on the dirt and a constant symphony of unseen insects.  Four years ago today I had a beautiful home and a completely different life.  But... I didn’t have a horse or my two new friends, and I can’t think of a better thing to do on a lovely afternoon than to go on a horseback ride with my Champagne Sisters.

The Lone Whisker

I don’t know why this popped into my mind today.  Somewhere back in the 60’s, I was hanging around Albuquerque with friends.  Pam was a couple years older than me, a sophisticated, mature 14 year old.  We went downtown together so she could buy tickets to an upcoming Dave Clark Five concert.  I was in awe of her ability to talk to grownups and purchase things without any help from Mommy.  We ate greasy cheeseburgers together  at a little diner and wandered into a five and dime store to look around. 

I can see it to this day.  It was the longest, scariest looking hair I had ever seen on a woman’s face.  Sprouting from an ugly, reddish brown mole on the side of her chin, a thick black hair extended straight out and then down below her face, dangling in the air.  It bobbed up and down as the woman asked if I needed assistance.  I tried to focus on her black framed eyeglasses which magnified her eyeballs about 100 times, but the bobbing hair pulled my gaze back like a magnet.  Embarrassed, I coughed politely into my hand and backed up a few steps, trying not to seem rude.  I mumbled something about having to leave immediately and ran to find Pam. 
Things to be grateful for:  I don’t have a big, hairy mole.  Yet.

Shadow Star

When I was a young girl, I wished for a horse more than anything in the world.  Dad surprised me on my 13^th birthday with a wonderful companion, Pat, my Quarter/Thoroughbred mix.  She was dark brown with white socks and a white star on her forehead.  Her real name was Shadow Star but we all just called her Pat. (A few years later, Dad bought a ranch outside Waco, Texas and called it Star Shadow Ranch in her honor.) She got to live in our backyard corral in Reno, Nevada, and my teenage years revolved around horse activities in 4-H, parades, and fun rides with my friends.  She was a darn good barrel racer and could run like the wind.  In the summertime, I was always barefoot and bareback, riding Pat all over Virginia Foothills.  I taught her a magic word which would make her run as fast as she could go.  I would ride to a long, straight dirt road, whisper “Chiggerbite” into her ear, then hang onto her mane and feel the wind whip through my hair as she bolted and raced down the road.   She was an amazing horse and I never had any problems or issues with her.  Miss you, Pat.