Autumn's Flash

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. It was a surreal sight, quite staggering in fact. Everything seemed to be aglow, the varying degrees of red and orange struggling for dominance all across the backdrop of what was just over 5 acres of wine country. I stood unbelieving, overwhelmed, a motionless figure in the midst of the confusion swirling round about. A slap on the back took care of matters soon enough. ‘Get the hose!’ Jack cried. I was jolted into the melee, joining other hands darting about haphazardly, battling feverishly the greedy flames that threatened to engulf everything in sight.

Not that the fire was totally unexpected though. It had been a scorching summer. There had been the occasional heat wave expected by the locals but recent temperatures had reached record highs. For the past week we had slugged through each day conscious only of a certain brittle quality to the air. Freak weather, the old timers called it, going about in that ponderous way they had. In our valley there was an invisible but sure divide, those who were hardcore and the newcomers.

My brother Jack and I firmly fit the newcomers’ category, having inherited our property only a couple of years earlier. We were quintessential city-types intrigued by the idea of turning an old vineyard into a profitable business. For the most part we were in over our heads and frequently relied on the sage advice of our nearest neighbor. Carl! Now that was the definition of hardcore, his piercing gaze missing nothing, leathery face testament to time spent in the fields. In the evenings we tried to distract ourselves playing card games on the porch. Even then, the mosquitoes had attacked with a vengeance signaling to all that we were interlopers. Eventually we retreated to our rooms in the oppressive heat, antique ceiling fans humming ineffectively, circulating dryness.

It had been pretty much a humdrum day and we had retired early. Suddenly there was a blinding flash, static in the atmosphere and then the acrid odor of burning. Once outside, it was evident at once that Mother Nature had dealt her hand, leaving us to manage whichever way we could.

Eyes watering, lashes, nostrils coated I ran, dodging scalding sprays. Just this morning I had looked over the yard at the fallen leaves, the rich rusty hues radiant with autumn’s glory. Somehow the raking never quite got finished, an odd neglected heap lay scattered here and there.

Now the tinder-dry leaves combusted with the rush of oxygen, exploding, raining down ash, cinders and debris in every conceivable direction.

Soon we formed a crude system of triage ruthlessly deciding on what could be salvaged and what could not. Help arrived in the form of neighboring homesteaders. Buckets of water were passed along a human chain-link with urgency. Indeed the entire region was at risk. Only the week prior trenches had been dug as a fire preventive measure. Our valley had seen its fair share of Nature’s caprices and the wizened old geezers had grown wise to her ways. They were time- tested, those folks. Resilient and unyielding they had weathered the storms as they came.

There was a real moment of dread when the wind shifted and the red-hot flames fanned towards the main house. Vivid glowing orange balls of fire lifted with fresh gusts of wind, an altogether spectacular sight. I was at once reminded of a giant fireworks display I had seen at the country fair. How could something so beautiful be so destructive? Fleeting thoughts of valuables, cherished possessions, littered round the house filled my mind. There were essential documents to consider as well. Title deeds, insurance papers and so on. My heart sank at the thought of impending colossal loss.

With my spirits flagging and strength giving out, I was at the point of giving up. Abruptly the wind direction changed as though in answer to unspoken prayer. And headed for the dense breaker of trees lining the periphery. It was just the hand of providence we needed. Quickly rallying round, we made our last-ditch efforts to save key buildings. A cheer went up as the last flames flickered out with a dreadful hiss. We looked at each other dog-tired but triumphant. The valley had survived this round.

I looked round for Jack, tried to make him out amidst the sea of faces caked in soot and grime. I finally found him sitting on a burned stump exhausted and not saying much. He put me in mind of a chimney sweep. I rather suppose I felt like a ragamuffin myself. We had rushed out in various stages of undress along with other members of our ad-hoc brigade. Now we clasped hands in unspoken solidarity. We had proven our mettle after all.

It was a marvel to discover what had been salvaged. Mercifully the main house had been spared. Part of the winery had taken a bit of a hit though. There were some old beams to be replaced but the cellar was intact. The heavy metal door had held. Once the handle cooled off we opened it up. Our precious casks were safe and none the worse for the wear. We could rebuild what had been gutted by the fire.

My mind wandered to the trees around the periphery and I went over to inspect. The thick bark had pretty much prevented serious damage. These trees had been around forever, each consecutive year adding a ring to the sturdy trunks now blackened by fire.

The first rays of dawn cut through the particle-filled haze, bringing things into sharper focus. For one, the corns on my foot hurt like hell. In fact I hurt all over. Straightening out the kinks, I shifted my weight gingerly from one blackened foot to the other. I turned back from accessing the damage, stumbling along the edge of the property in slow motion. 

Quite unexpectedly I was lost in a pool of emerald green eyes. I had found myself face to face with a wild cat, her whiskers singed. For a split second there was a moment shared, an unmistakable sense of camaraderie.

Then like a flash of lightning she was gone.