Green and Orange
Or, how Spring juxtaposes life with the barren Marshall Fire leftovers.
Fields that were scarred with ash and bare spots of dirt by the Marshall Fire are today a hearty green. And marking many of their borders is lurid orange fencing warning voyeurs that a construction zone sits on the other side. They’ll need a pass to cross over.
Century Ridge.
As it made its way to Louisville, the Marshall Fire took out this field and neighborhood just beyond that orange fencing just before it hit ours, across McCaslin.
The Skate Park-ish.
This field near the Louisville Police Station and Skate Park was on fire as I pulled out of our neighborhood on 30 December. We saw three fire trucks pull into the Skate Park on that day to tackle the blaze. The shot above is looking north at the field. In the distance, beyond the orange fence, is our neighborhood.
The white rectangle shows the same field, except looking west. This is a still from a video I took at the Skate Park on 20 December 2021, 10 days before the fire. The field normally had tall grass, which stands in contrast to the short, green grass that’s there now.
939 Eldorado (our house).
I went by the house today as I do from time to time. It amazes me that plants can still grow despite the ubiquitous toxicity of the place.
Orange utility flags dot the front lawn, which is trying desperately to come back as it has done every year for the last thirty. Next month we’ll excavate this area with the rest of the property.
Daylilies my wife and I planted last spring to adorn our front walkway have pushed through that unhealthy topsoil. You’ll see orange spray paint signaling “939” as our street address in the background.
Feather Reeds our neighbor John and I planted a couple of summers ago are rebounding in the “neutral land” between our driveways. This view is from his driveway looking back at our house. Our painted orange house number is there in the distance.