Phoenix

08-08-08 (weird!)

I’m settling in at the bar of Ruth Chris (remarkably and conveniently located in the lobby of my Huntsville, AL hotel) and figured I was long overdue for a post. Plus I am supposed to be writing up my memos from the day’s interviews, and, as they say, procrastination is the um, thing that makes us all do innovation. Or something (not at all) like that.

The past few months have brought “more intensity” (think Lost in Translation). Any excerpt of the recent past must start with highlight of our days: Isobel!

Isobel is the latest additional to the Crew. Upon her miniscule shoulders rests that weight of carrying the Sky stories into the next generation (no pressure, Sweet Iso). Not the transcribing of the stories, necessarily, but the starring and producing of them. So far, she has develop a voracious appetite for all of the divine food and drink that her world has to offer (although I have not tried the milk – nor do I intend to – so I cannot really vouch for her palate).

So Isobel is pretty much perfect. I’m sure that will change, but she must be pretty special to make even a kid-skeptic like me fall under her spell. And throughout the birth and first month, Pomme and Chris have displayed amazing strength and grace. I’m so excited to see where things go from here.

* * *

Next Chapter: In Which The Sky Burns

June 24, 2008 brought us another terrifying fire at Sky. I vividly remember the Cavedale Fire of July 1996. I was working down in Glen Ellen at Susan Brandt-Hawley’s law office when the first word of fire on the hill hit. I remember the sickening pit in your stomach as you wonder how close the flames are to your home – your heart – or how soon they will be how close. We were lucky that time – as we were this time – but it was a traumatic and terrifying experience. I was stranded downtown for a days as the fire threatened Sky and Dad and Maya were up on the hill doing what they could to secure the place. I took Paloma to the Sonoma fair for her birthday and we tried maintain a little normalcy in the midst of the uncertainty and fear about what was happening on the hill.

This time, I felt that same sickening heaviness as Matt and I drove across the Richmond bridge. I knew by then that fire was at Sky, but information about the damage, size, and attempts to fight it was unreliable and constantly changing. As Matt drove, I worked the phone, seeking and disseminating what little information there was to be had.

When we finally drove the Sky gate, I was simultaneously intensely relieved and distraught. Finally to be there, to be able to see what was happening, to be reassured that the fire was out with the damage contained, brought the relief; the scorched blackness covering a portion of the vineyard and extending into the woods brought the anguish.

We were lucky in many ways: through the extraordinary work of many firefighters, starting with Mayacamas Volunteer Firefight Uncle Jerry, first on the scene, the fire was put out quickly (and then Jerry and Jesse walked the perimeter throughout the night to put out any remaining embers and hotspots); no one was seriously hurt; the house and the winery were untouched; the chickens, despite having their coop ablaze several times, lived to crow about; and the tragedy brought out the love and support of many. We are very lucky. I need to keep reminding myself of how fortunate we are because while walking through the burned areas of our home in the hours and days after the fire and dealing with the ongoing consequences of the fire sometimes feels not so fortunate.

Hopefully there will be a phoenix soaring from the ashes. It certainly helps keep things in perspective to be reminded of the cycle of life. Interspersed in the destruction of things are the births and rebirths that bring enough brightness to keep us going through the valleys. And Isobel Valley has certainly been one of the brightest births.