The Adjusted Normal, 23. Scorched Earth.

Fire is our bane. Yesterday's fire was small - not even a hectare. But there have been others that have left behind scorched earth as if the Russians were retreating from Napoleon's army.

Last year's was especially bad. It happened in a warmer and dryer than usual March, with a strong north wind, and extended all along the hills, touching different villages, where the householders fought it off with what they had - hoses, buckets, branches, shovels. It left behind desolation, that is still visible. 

In 2006, fires again surrounded us. It burned right to the edge of the road below our house, and roared down to the next villages. That was an exceptionally frightful one. I had taken our nine year old daughter to cousins, away from the fire, but my father had refused to leave, and went to bed. My husband used a cistern with a hundred liter capacity, normally used to spread pesticides on crops. He filled it with clean water and went to the edge of our property, where the fire was jumping its way to the road. I pulled the garden hose in through the house, upstairs, and through a round window in my daughter's room, to wet the barn roof. It's an old roof, with wooden beams underneath the tiles. If a spark had worked its way in, the barn could have burned.

In March of 1997, I remember another fire in the hills behind our house. Thankfully, there are fields, some of them sown, separating our property from the woods. That fire went by without much danger. In between those years, there have been many other, smaller fires. 

We have all learned to keep an eye out on warm, windy days. As long as there's been a dry spell, and the temperatures are above normal, and the northeast wind is blowing, chances are that a fire will start somewhere. It doesn't matter if it's January or July, smoke will appear on the horizon.

The whys are so difficult to assess. Grudges, manias, political interests, economical interests, simple insanity, take your pick. One woman one year was caught lighting fires near her village. She would go out on deserted lanes, and leave small candles burning next to the road in some underbrush. The reason seemed to have been psychiatric. Another man started a fire near our village. He had been declaring previously that he wanted to burn our village down. Mania? 

Once upon a time, fires were rarer because there was practically no underbrush. Now, dry sticks that were trees are still standing from last year's fire in areas. When another fire comes by, it will be a dandy. Forestry has also changed. It's gone from planting mostly pine trees to fast-growing eucalyptus. This last tree thrives on fire. 

Authorities have tried in different ways to stop the fires, from stricter punishments, to obligation of cleaning out underbrush and cutting fire-prone trees five hundred meters from villages and outlying houses. But the large forestry companies the regional government has encouraged, continue to plant eucalyptus. So, fires still have plenty of fuel in the hills.

Whatever the reasons, these fires are only contributing to climate change, and destroying our environment. Whoever's doing it, just stop.

Life continues.