Fire

My first childhood memory is of my mother on fire. She was cooking dinner for her large family when the pan suddenly burst into flames. She raced outside to toss the pan into the winter garden, but when she did the flames jumped to her arms, melting the flesh as she rolled in the snow.

Fire freaks me out. Not candles or matches or campfires  - actually, my family singing around a campfire is one of my favourite memories. I mean fires that course with a ferocity matched only by Mother Nature's other temper tantrums: hurricanes... tsunamis... tornadoes...

When I saw footage of the Waldo Canyon fire cresting a mountain and tearing into a Colorado Springs neighborhood a few days ago, it made my arms tingle.

This is my friend's cousin's neighborhood, and the home at the bottom right was his.

Colorado is burning. Eight large fires peppered the state at the same time, including one in nearby Mancos that left my keyboard covered in ashes, the view hazy and the air thick. Dry lightening one evening sparked 120 new blazes, most of which were immediately put out except for Lightner Creek, where my friends stood hosing down their new house.

Meanwhile, over on the east coast, Tropical Storm Debby was drowning Florida and violent storms pummeled the Mid-Atlantic.

Madness, I tell you!

But even Mother Nature wants to look pretty when she's pissed off, and she used the smoke to paint some fabulous sunsets. Beauty in everything, right?