Sunday, I was out shooting film of the water-dropping helicopters, as well as watching all the TeeVee channels' footage of the fires.
Yesterday, I got some late-afternoon shots of the encroaching armies of smoke. The sun was behind the squall-line-like advance, but there was that distinct glow of fire from below. The firetrucks were screaming up and down the boulevard outside, and all four scanners throughout the building in which I worked were non-stop with chatter among the emergency personnel.
Today, the yellow colour of the heavily filtered sun offers no opportunity for photography. And after all the footage and photos that have filled the broadcast, print and Internet accounts over the last two-and-a-half days, there is no reason to render my somewhat less dramatic shots, let alone publish them here. Suffice to state that over the hill from me, from where I type in my wee newsroom, is the remnants of Canyon Country, Stevenson Ranch, et al. (This morning I had watched the infrequent plumes of gray erupt from the semi-steamy white of smouldering inferno. I suppose it has gotten much worse since then.)
And I am confident that, like New York six years ago, everyone in the present catastrophe's area-meaning southern California from Santa Barbara, out to San Bernadino and down to San Diego-knows someone who has been directly affected. I know a few folk, and I have done all I can to try and get done that which I am doing, that I can start hearing today's horror stories as well as be ready to offer what assistance I can to friends and colleagues.
-BusTard
LATER: As the evening feel early, owing to the smoke pouring in round 2:30 (the yellow sky and finely ground dirt and ash settling on everything outside was akin to tornado weather), I decided to get a few shots after here. One is looking east, one north and one west. (The flag at half-mast is a POW flag stifled by the heavy, hot air.) The last one is straight into the sun with no retina burn, at approximately 3:30 p.m.
East:
North:
West:
Sun:
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