The Winter Forest

 

Here in coastal Northern California just an hour North of San Francisco our forests are not covered with snow in the winter. What you see is a forest of mostly deciduous trees that let the sun through. This is more than welcome in the winter, but in summer they give lovely cool shade.

Our neighboring town to the North is bordered by a lovely regional park that offers a lot of that kind of forest. Lovely trails meander through the forest and up the sometimes rather steep hills. In the photo above you can also spot a fence in the distance. This is to fence in the goats and sheep that come in to graze and thus cut down all the undergrowth. Perfect wildfire prevention.

The park was closed for quite some time because of the Kincade Fire that raced through it in the fall of 2019. Scars of that wildfire are still visible.

At the same time we saw a lot of new growth. It never stops to amaze me how nature bounces back after natural disasters.

I'm not sure what this wildflower is (if you recognize it, please let me know), but the one below is a Pacific Hound's Tongue (Cynoglossum grande). I often wonder who gives the names to plants...

Many of the trees - mostly oaks - are quite crooked and create great shadows.

We climbed up to one of the highest points of the park which was unpleasantly steep. We had to go down the same way and my knees weren't happy about it. But the view from the top was fantastic.

Over to the Coastal Range...

... and to Mount St. Helena in the Mayacamas Mountains. Mount St. Helena is one of the peaks that is covered in snow when we have those really cold (for our area) days and nights.

The park also has several canyons which is highly loved by wildfires because they can race through it fueled by wind with little chance to stop it quickly. We walked down one of those canyons along a less traveled trail from where we could see the charred trees.

But we also noticed the renewal of these trees. How very amazing!

I simply love the texture of the "fresh" tree trunks after the charred bark is gone.

We finally arrived at one of the three ponds that are creatively named after the first letters of the alphabet. This is pond B.

There's a lovely loop around the pond. On our way back to the parking lot we passed pond A where we stopped and enjoyed the quietness.

This was a lovely outing with a beautiful hike. The weather has been warm and spring like. Even for this area these temperatures are unseasonally warm and we do worry about another dry year. There is no rain in the forecast. I'm grateful that we had some decent rainfall in the fall, but it is by far not enough to get us out of the drought. I'm hoping for March which usually is a wetter month - fingers crossed!

The Beautiful Sound of Rain

 

Raindrops on the smoketree...

Yesterday we received a Red Flag warning - this is the most severe warning when weather conditions are such that a wildfire can easily start. In this case, the most concern was the expected dry lightning  (that ignited the massive LNU lightning fire last year) that combined with gusty winds and our bone dry conditions could wreak havoc. Once again we were packing our bags and put the grab-and-go boxes close to the garage. By now we are so well organized that we just grab our stuff and put it in place where we can easily carry it to our car.

... on the French lilac...

The thunder and lightning started late in the evening and we watched it with worry. We were watching a German crime series when the Geek suddenly asked "is that rain I'm hearing?"

It was.

Beautiful, calming rain. 

And then it stopped.

... on the African Daisy...

Even though it rained only a few minutes, hardly to get the ground wet, it filled us with hope. Hope that this time we will be spared from evacuating, that the thunderstorm will pass by without causing any damage. Our hope was unreasonable because that tiny amount of rain would not be able to stop any sparks, but hope is a weird thing.

... on the Petchoa...

Eventually we went to bed, while outside there was still some lightning, but not so much thunder.

A couple hours later it was raining harder.

Oh that beautiful sound of rain!

... on the Calibrachoa...

This stronger shower didn't last for long either, but it sure did more than just wetting the ground a bit.

This morning, when I went out into the garden under still gray skies I saw the remains of the nightly rain everywhere.

The abalone shells that I scattered throughout the garden had changed their color to pretty shades of pink. It always happens when they get wet.

The lone pomegranate on my tree was shining with droplets - I planted this tree only last year (one day before the lockdown) and I'm grateful that it already bears fruit, even if it is only one.

Look at the clematis - this one had me worried throughout the summer. It was blooming so prettily in late spring, but then the leaves started to turn brown and the plant didn't look well at all. Just a few days ago I cut it back drastically - and this is the result. I'm not complaining.

I am deeply grateful for the rain that has turned the severity of this Red Flag warning around. While this was only a drop in the ocean and will change absolutely nothing of our severe drought and the danger of wildfires, it brought relief in an anxiety filled night. That was all we needed for that moment.

A New Trail

 

Today I wanted to walk around the lake again, but when I arrived in the parking lot, I changed my plan. It was an overcast and cool morning, perfect for hiking into adjacent Annadel State Park. I first climbed up a steep trail that I last hiked a few years ago.

I apologize for a photo-heavy post.

Even though you can't see it in the pictures, this is a very steep trail, littered with thick roots and big boulders. It's ideal rattlesnake habitat which is why in the summer I only walk trails like this on overcast cool mornings like today. Our rattlesnakes tend to keep away in this kind of weather and I prefer it this way.

On top there is a summer-dry meadow and a completely dried up little pond.

Signs of the drought are everywhere, but also gorgeous views.

The hills in the photo above is where the Tubbs Fire raced through in that fateful night in October 2017, destroying everything in its way. Although homes are built up there again, I can still see the scars of the fire. I wish there were no buildings on those hills.

Walking across the meadow I discovered a trail I had never hiked before and I spontaneously decided to try it out. I knew that it eventually would lead down to the parking lot of Annadel and I sure didn't want to walk that far away from my starting point (which was on the other side of the mountain), but I at least wanted to get an idea of what the trail looked like.

I'm glad I did.

The first part of the trail was rather mellow, but then I rounded a corner and saw this:

This is where last year's Glass Fire had burned in Annadel. See that tree on the right?

Like a snake is shedding its skin, these trees are shedding their burned bark and beneath it they look pretty good. It is always amazing to see how nature heals itself. However, for some trees it is just too late.

But even these obviously dead trees still offer habitat and protection for wildlife. Think of birds and little critters that make these trees their homes. I'm glad that not every burnt tree is cut down, but that nature is getting its way.

California has always had fires. This is not a new thing, however, what is new is how ferocious they have become. California has always needed fires, but now with more and more homes in the wilderness areas and a forest mismanagement over many many years a change of course is unavoidable.

Here you can clearly see the fire's way:

I eventually turned around and hiked another trail above the lake before I finally went back down the steep trail. I can assure you that climbing it up was way easier than down!

What I love the most about this area? The crooked trees.

For the Love of the Land

 

It is still hot here, but our latest fire is almost completely contained. The air quality has improved considerably and it is wonderful to be outside again. I did some nature hikes in our beautiful county that showed me once again the loveliness of this place.

Some of you have asked why we are still living here when we know that these fires occur every year and are getting worse. I wonder whether people living in places where hurricanes hit over and over again (and getting worse as well) or who live in Tornado Alley are confronted with these same questions. 

They probably have the same answer as many of us in California have.

In the end it comes down to this: for the love of the land.

These questions are not asked by people who live here. Sure, we talk about it with friends and neighbors, and there are even a few people who actually move away. but most stay, even rebuild in burnt out areas (that is sometimes difficult for me to understand). Whenever there is a fire close by it's the talk of the day. We call each other to see that everybody is safe, we look after our neighbors. We pack our bags. We grab our phones at every "ping" checking for new alerts and warnings. We sleep in our clothes. Yes, it sounds terrible and it sure is no walk on the beach. - But -

This is our home.

Sonoma County is incredible beautiful. We have mountains, wine country, large meadows with sheep and cows, rolling hills, dense forests of century old redwood trees, a rugged wild coast, and of course the vast Pacific Ocean.

There is an abundance of wildlife. When I lie awake in the night (way too often unfortunately) I can hear two Western Screech Owls "talking" to each other; there are foxes barking, the howling of coyotes, the call of the Great Horned Owl and I even once heard the chilling scream of a mountain lion. That is something you hardly forget! On my hikes I can watch deer, skunks, coyotes and bobcats, not to mention all the birds. And I'm pretty sure the mountain lion has seen me!

All of this would be very hard to leave behind and I'm not ready to do that.

There is also this: I am my mother's daughter. My mother lived through the bombing of Berlin. She never thought of leaving the city she loved until she was told to. She would completey understand why we are staying.

The most important reason beside the love for this land is - my friends. I have some wonderful friends here - not many, but these people I can trust. They are the ones with whom I can be open and honest, the "real" me. Those who lend a shoulder and who can lean on me. The ones we can laugh with. 

Friends are so important to me. And at our age it is not that easy anymore to make new friends, to find the people that are our tribe. I have found my tribe. Why would I go away? 

For the time being we're staying. The outcome of the election might make us think about this again. But as terrifying as they are, the fires are not a reason to leave this beautiful part of our planet.

I love Sonoma County. We are Sonoma Strong.