The Blessing of Memories

Last week I had the honor of participating in a webinar “opening reception” for a virtual exhibit of work by women photographers called “Sacred Spaces.” The entire extravaganza was the brainchild of Colleen Miniuk, and it was grand.  Several of us spoke about our feelings on the topic and about our images.  The exhibit is available to view through the end of June 2026.

Just days later, in one of those dizzying moments of synchronicity, I found myself in what used to be my most sacred physical space.  Until the Dragon Bravo Fire. That was yesterday.

I’d like to tell you about yesterday.

I opened my eyes in an isolated spot (like, maybe one or two people make it down this road in a month) and decided that I had the courage to do it; to cross into the burn scar and see what happened to this part of my beloved forest.  Extraordinary courage was required. I figured I had another four days to spend, so I could back out at any point and make another run at it later.

If I were reading a novel, I would have been forewarned by the 10” dead tree that had fallen across the road during the windy night. I managed to clear most of it off the road and blithely carried on.

Many of the places I revisited were nearly unrecognizable.  I won’t belabor the way it looked or my feelings about it. I was saying goodbye to my beloved.

As if that were not bad enough, I noticed some odd electrical behavior in my van – lights turning themselves on and flickering.  After a few hours of driving and photographing in the burn area, I crossed back into healthy forest.  I figured I’d hook up the Starlink and troubleshot the problem with my husband, who built the van.  Only, the Starlink didn’t work either.  I sent him a message on my InReach (satellite communicator I carry when I’m away from the van).  I figured I’d hunker down and try again to reach him the next day.  Then I noticed the heat didn’t work either.  It would be in the mid-20s (F) that night.  I’d pretty much resigned myself to going home that day, but I drove 40 minutes to the nearest place I could get a phone signal while parked.  I called Marco, moved all the gear away from the electrical cabinet, and we failed miserably at troubleshooting the problem.  So, I spent less than 24 hours on a trip that was planned for five days.

Unpacking all those clean clothes and that uneaten food is rather sad.

Now we (and by “we” I mean he) know the culprit was a battery terminal fuse.  Replacement cost, $17.  Not that I could have made the diagnosis or the repair in the field.

In any case, I did accomplish part of the before and after project I’d planned for this excursion.  I have a couple of other spots I want to see for this venture, but I won’t be back to the places I photographed yesterday.  Ever.

 Perhaps there’s still something sacred there, but I can no longer feel it.  The forest’s soul has moved on, leaving me with only the blessing of memories.