Smoke gets in my eyes

A tall mountain pass separates me from California, yet it’s hard to get away. Smoke from the “King” fire has drifted over the heights of Donner Pass, traveled hundreds of miles northwest and settled thickly on Boise.

We breathe it, smell it, taste it. Our eyes water and sting. Thousands of California residents have been displaced by the searing conflagration that has been burning day and night for two weeks. Hundreds of thousands more from Reno to Boise choke on the smoke.

It doesn’t seem fair that repercussions from this fire have drifted so far.

A hundred thousand acres scorched – more than 150 square miles of forested mountains blackened – 8,000 firefighters called to action.

Then, the rain comes. Washing it all away. Bringing a cleansing chill to the air and a halt to the burning. Other states breathe a sigh of relief.

I’m back in California again and the temperature is rising, even as we head into October. It’s been a long summer.

Rude, rude Idaho

Like everyone else, when I want to be amused, I go to the Internet.

Funniest story ever: Idaho has the rudest drivers. And California didn’t make the top 10 list.

Sounds like a prank story to me.

I love you California. You are my native state and the place I’ve returned to live. But…

I’ve been to most of the states that make up the top 10 list –Washington D.C. and New York come next – and they have nothing on the craziness of driving on California roadways. It’s not just the semis, which seem intent on running me off the road, but the everyday drivers that scare me. There was the driver who tried to force me off the road and then flipped me off.

It’s a daily battlefield on the freeways. Pedestrians and bicyclists beware on all other roadways. Driving defensively will get you killed – driving aggressively is the only way to stay alive.

Meanwhile, back in Idaho…

I’ve never met such polite drivers. I’m waved in when I want to merge. Drivers stop for pedestrians (unlike cab drivers in New York, who nudged my knees with their bumpers when I crossed at crosswalks). People rarely honk their horns. Frankly, it’s a relief to drive the roadways here.

One writer suggests that it’s because Idaho drivers are so polite – driving the speed limit, slowing for other drivers to merge, etc -- that they are considered rude by everyone else who wants to speed on by.

Ok. I’ll buy that.

North by northeast

I’ve fled to the beach so many times. It’s time to try something different. This time I fly to Idaho, where the trees already show the first hint of fall in the yellow that tinges their leaves.

Out here, in the northern mountain west, the temperature still climbs – but slowly, verrry slowly, during the day. The sun crosses lower in the southern sky and days are shorter. The cool morning lingers and an unexpected drizzle wets the pavement, startling this Californian out of her drought.

This is the high desert so summers bake the hills a golden brown, but Idaho obeys the calendar, which clicks over to autumn this week. What’s left is the ghost of summer and that’s ok by me.

Sacramento in mid-September is ghost pepper hot, 104 degrees that leave my heat-loving tomato plants scorched and wilted in dismay. It’s either give them water against drought rules or let them sag. They sag.

Out here, autumn is all around me. I drink in the morning chill as I walk to a nearby coffee shop, crunching through the sidewalk leaves. When I return, what I think of as fall will still be weeks away. In the afternoon, a light shower keeps those thoughts at bay for a little longer.

Everyone needs a break, whether it’s toward something or away from something. This time, both forces are at work. When one place gets too hot to handle, a cooler alternative is necessary. Thank goodness for this northern sanctuary.

Of creepy, crawly things and coyote urine

I am massaging a bag of coyote urine and wondering what series of events had brought me to this moment. The small green bag, ordered online from Amazon, emitted a faint, not unpleasant minty smell. I gave my little dog a whiff and he was verrrrrry interested.

Guess there’s more going on in that little bag than I can sense.

This is good, because it has a job to do: scare off the varmint that has called our backyard home.

The long warm days of summer and mild winters of California do more than draw people from around the country. Critters large and small creep and crawl around my home, wanting to move in with us.

So far, I have battled multiple incursions of ants, pantry moths and spiders. I relocated a little gopher that burrowed in our front lawn and peeked out at me curiously as I turned the hose on his cozy home. I’ve faced a horror story of maggots that spilled from our outdoors garbage bin one day.

And there’s a war going on in my garden between aphids and ladybugs that’s advancing to a critical point.

This is not to say that other places don’t have invasions of wildlife. I’ve heard of a bear break-in in Alaska, we suffered skunks and raccoons in Idaho, and there was that sleepless summer of house crickets when we lived in Las Vegas.

Those were rarities. In my new home, every season unleashes its own flurry of species and I’ve learned to welcome some -- such as lizards, hummingbirds and doves -- even as I repel others.

I draw the line at possums. For weeks, we’ve been stumped in how to get rid of it. It ignores my dog’s frantic barking, my thumps on the fence where he hides, and whatever we can (softly) rain down on it to encourage it to move on. It just doesn’t care. Just over the fence, in our yard, is water and a smorgasbord of garden vegetables.

Thus, the urine, which I’ve been assured will do the trick, making it believe a more serious predator is lurking.

We'll see. I sure hope coyote urine doesn't attract a whole new slew of critters to my door.

Succulence

Californians love their succulents. 

Drought-tolerant, these tough little plants have found their way into my heart.

What’s not to love? They are forgiving when you forget to water them, can handle our mild winters and soak up the fierce summer heat.

They also are fast growers and friendly – plant them close together and they thrive. Mix species and they love it.

Planting them has become a new art form.

It’s hard to resist picking up a new pot and packing it full of new (to me) chubby-leafed varieties. Their names draw me in: hens-and-chicks, jade plant, ivory tower, black rose and topsy turvy.

My patio is filling up with quite a flock of these guys.

Daytripping

The morning promises a blistering sunbaked day inland. I can’t stand the thought of it. The escape is too alluring – and close by. California’s long slender shape means the coast is never far away.

Not like our chunkier shaped neighbor to the north, Oregon, where 8 hours can separate east and west borders.

Today, I’m thankful once again for San Francisco and its misty salt-coated breezes. A sweater is needed as I let the Pacific lap at my feet.

The sand pushes through my toes as I look out at the fog-shrouded water and watch ships go by.

It’s hard to believe that scarcely 85 miles away, it’s 30 degrees warmer.

I could do this all day.