September 28th, 2020 started with a siren and a megaphone:

“Evacuate. Now.”

It was 2 AM. The Glass Fire had grown to eleven thousand acres over the course of one day. I threw my go-bag into the back of a car and followed my family away from my home under an angry, bright-orange sky. That false sunset followed me up the valley as I drove alone through smoke and raining ash. The Glass Fire was named for where it began, on Glass Mountain, approximately a hundred feet from Boeschen Vineyards.

Boeschen Vineyards was a mere 11 of the 10.2 million acres that burned across the western United States during the 2020 wildfire season. As global warming has worsened, so has humanity’s ability to maintain its truce with fire. Often lauded as an achievement of our species, we tend to forget that fire existed long before us, Prometheus’ prize and curse from the heavens. Our society needs fire – for warmth, for food, for energy – but we are also terrified of its destructive power.

We have access to fire everyday, and yet we have also surrounded ourselves with measures we hope will hide us from the flames.

At least for me, the flames are always there.