Once Magnificent

Exactly eight years ago, just a few days after we moved here, we walked down to the bridge at the end of Wildwood Trail and my eye was caught by this magnificent oak tree. We walked down there this morning to check out the amount of water in the creek after the rain, and and the picture above is what it looks like now. It is clear that the fire roared down the hill behind the house and hit in all its fury. The county came by and cut up many of the branches which extended clear across the road, blocking access to the bridge, but the rest of it remains where it fell. It is a sad but somehow compelling sight.

The chimney, of the house is still standing as is the are the local stones that formed the fireplace brest and a large part of the living room wall. The white wrought iron table and chairs in the garden look almost as if someone had tea out there just yesterday. I didn't photograph that part of the house because it felt too intrusive. 

Florrie, the woman who lived there designed the house herself and it was one of the first to be built on the street. When I met her, her husband, Jim, had just had a stroke and was confined largely to a wheelchair. He was a lovely man, proud of his wife,  the house she designed and the family they raised there. He spoke often of his  life, much of which was spent outdoors hiking in the Sierra and in their second home in Montana. It must have been difficult for him to be stuck at home, long before lockdown was ever a concept, yet he never complained and always had such a sweet smile.

Last Christmas Jim fell and broke his leg. He wound up in a care home where his wife wasn't allowed to visit him. I assume she still can't, although I haven't seen her since the fire. It is such a heartbreaking story to see everything these people lived for destroyed. There is a son somewhere and I can only hope that he is helping his mother relocate. I'm quite sure she will not want to return to Wildwood Trail.