Everything was gone; even more so than the last time we came here. The 40-foot incense cedar had been taken down; dead from the fire. Oak trees, though hardy through fire, all dead from the hottest fire raging about them. Gone was the ancient apple orchard. Plum trees stood, charred, dead. Last time here, I had retrieved a wind chine from one of them, not burned, still green, now hanging at my new place.

The landscape was barren and I noticed the newly planted fruit trees a couple of years ago were now blackened, surrounded by their anti-deer cages.

I had picked up all that I had found on the trip here before; right after the fire ripped through the our neighborhood, and off through town, burning almost a million acres of land.

Some of the stuff I left, was ok to leave. One piece, was difficult. Most was just metal yard art; some were now melted glass, crumbling rose quartz.

But today, getting out of the car and looking over the totally cleared land, dozed and graded, with new dirt, I saw it. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Right there, plain sight and not there when I was here before. Someone had found it and left it for me, placed it specially in that spot.

Right there, in front of where the carport was, at the end of the driveway that was more of a memory than existing, right there it was…the metallic Celtic cross, undamaged, cleaned, and placed there; in protection of the land? Or for me and my protection. For whatever reasons, I didn’t decide, but picked the cross up; the cross that had hung on our carport, protecting, witnessing, and lasting in our lives.

It’s now wrapped and waiting to be hung on my home; not where I am now, but where I’ll be when this is all over. Until then, I continue to be blessed, protected, and witness to these miracles.

Miracles from the fire.