Batterman fire.

 July 4. Yesterday. I went on our balcony around 2:30 to put our laundry out to dry. Glancing up across the fire I remember exclaiming aloud to myself, 'Whoa that's a fire!'

I went downstairs and described it to K. Turns out, around 12:15 that day, people in the area heard a loud bang and shortly after reported the smoke. In twelve hours, it went from that to a fire engulfing 5,000 acres. Just shy of 4,000 football fields.

At 4:00, I checked on it again. Looks can be deceiving.

Despite seeming it was smoldering, on its way to being extinguished, the fire had somehow climbed the ridge atop Badger Mountain. That's where the black smoke is burning, from flames out of view.

Four hours later, around 8:00, the scars were obvious. Through binoculars, I counted five aircraft circling. One is evident flying toward the smoldering fire at far right.

As night crept over the valley, the fire, alive and well despite the immense efforts of county and state fire crews, cast an eerie glow of incensed smoke atop Badger Mountain.

July 5. The crews worked through the night. The fire was reported 10% contained, but they couldn't keep up. Winds shifted from the north to the south. The fire spread to 8,000 acres. 6,000 football fields.

It looked benign enough. It wasn't. As night fell on the second day, we could see flames with our naked eyes, ten miles away.

It's unknown how big this monster will get. Or how long it will burn. We're anxiously awaiting news of the cause. My loathing of the Fourth of July as a holiday to mask the wickedness of this country's past seemed to simmer to a boil watching the mountain across the River that runs through our town burn.

It's only the very beginning of this year's fire season. Only the very beginning.