
Burns Bog is burning. It's terrible and tragic, yes, but it's not the first time and likely won't be the last. What is remarkable about this time is how I heard about it. I was driving from my some-time Port Coquitlam home to my most-time Surrey home. Coming up 72nd Avenue I saw the smoke. Not building burning smoke, all black and acrid. It was that orange on gray glow, like a forest fire, and it looked to be quite near. I came in the house, greeted my parents, unpacked my stuff, and went to the back garden with my cat. That is where this remarkable thing happened. I learned what was burning by a conversation with the neighbours over the back yard fence. We all stood watching the smoke shift and the water bombers fly over, and discussing how terrible this was and what sort of complications it would cause for commuters on their way home. Once that fire gets into the peat it can burn and burn and burn. How well do you know your neighbours? Do you know their names? Their pets? Their stories? Maybe you don't have to know all their stories. But in a catastrophic situation, these are the people you are going to survive with. WITH. Neighbours. If they break the Strata rules by having blue curtains instead of white, ask yourself, what does it really matter? If they will save your ass in a fire, flood, what have you, who the hell cares what colour their curtains are? Say hello, how are you, would you like to come for coffee or a cocktail? This is community. It takes a village...
Peace, love, and joy,
Diana