Far beyond the cities and towns you know lies the enchanted redwood forests of NorCal. A tiny place named Klamath, after the Indian tribe that has lived here since the world began, is my center of the Universe for a spell as I make my way along the coastal trails.
Yet the forest is on fire, whether from the ignorance of man or the handiwork of the Great Mother is yet to be determined.
One thing is clear though, the earth is scorched and the smoke has trapped us all in her oven. Perhaps the Great Mother is preparing to wipe clean those that have destoyed her beauty with fire so that she can start anew.
My face is red from the intense heat and smoke as I make my way to the Pacific Ocean. The thick brush is full of flying insects that stick to my skin as I come closer to the sounds of breaking waves.
I come cliffside, the water far below me. Through the smoke I barely see the ocean, and wish I had wings so that I can soar high above.
But I am not a bird in this life, and the smoke has me trapped.