Scarring nature
Re “Not the fires of my youth,” Out Here, Nov. 14
Igrew up climbing Castle Peak above West Hills and roaming the wild oak woodlands. Across the street from me, there was a herd of sheep, and though I was barely 5 years old, I still remember catching a glimpse of the old shepherd with his flock. Homes grew up all around us when we were kids, yet miraculously, the hills remained.
I now live in a small rural town in northwest Montana, where the heartbeat of nature is still very strong. Still, those grassy footpaths and cool, shady glades under giant oaks, heavy with the scent of horehound and white sage, will always be etched in the wildest places of my heart. So, it is with profound sadness that I learn of the charring devastation.
While firefighters fought and mostly succeeded in protecting the millions of humans in harm’s way, and my own family’s home just one block south of Valley Circle Boulevard was mercifully saved, the creatures who called these wildlands home are still suffering terribly. With precious little habitat to flee to, surely thousands of our fellow earthlings have suffered and died.
The coming of healing rain to Los Angeles will restore much of these lands, but wild animals are still being pushed into closer contact with the urban interface. Let’s hope they survive it — and please, pray for rain. Moira Blazi, Libby, Mt.