The Way It Is Sometimes

Lifehere: Jesusito fire raging to the south, fire fighter planes flying overhead, that stark light, the crazy winds howling, and now May's bright full Flower Moon illuminatingthe hills... but the image of these white doves, white wings flickering, as thebells of the schoolhouse were rung (and I'll tell you about that another time), that's the one I want to share today.

I asked the bird keeper, a fellow named David, if the winds weren't a bit too strong for them.

"I've trained them in all conditions," he said. "They understand wind. Look at 'em. They're circling to get the currents. And now they're playing, just playing with the wind."

And then they were off, vanishing far beyond the hills.

"I expect them to be waiting for me at home in Santa Maria when I get back," said David.

Pure poetry, I said. A miracle.

David clearly agreed. He told me of his love for the doves, his respect for them, the way he got started taking care of them. He was understandably proud, one might even say misty-eyed, as he handed me his card, a sky blue affair with heavenly clouds and a bird:

WHITE ANGLES. DOVES RELEASED FOR WEDDINGS, ANNIVERSARIES, FUNERALS, SPECIAL EVENTS, AND PARTIES. VERY AFFORDABLE.

An orange and white air tanker flew above us toward Santa Barbara carrying another precious load of fire retardant to the mountains. The wild oats undulated like the sea. I ate a strawberry and walked down the hill.