On Sunday, September 4, 2011 a fire started burning in Bastrop, Texas and as of October 4, it was still burning.  It has consumed my home and the homes of 1653 of our friends and neighbors. 

For those wishing to send me something:  I could use love, strength, patience and wisdom.

From Wednesday, September 7, 2011
To my homeschool support group.

I can't sleep, so I thought I'd write. I'm practicing saying these things on paper, as a first step to saying them aloud. Forgive the disjointed nature of my writing.

It was confirmed that our home was one of the many here in Bastrop that was consumed by the fire. Many of my friends’ homes are gone also. The fires are still burning, and homes are still at risk. There are some areas that the police can get into, and they are getting word out about what structures still stand. The process is slow, and there are many places where it still isn't safe to go.  Even if getting word that your house still stands the joy is tainted with realism and doubt, because as our friend David a volunteer firefighter says, “We think we have saved a house only to find three hours later that it is gone.”

There are only a handful of paid firefighters in all of Bastrop county the rest are amazing dedicated volunteers, sometimes fighting fires on the line for 12 hours then returning home to prepare their own homes for evacuation.

As many of you know the high winds and the exceptional drought fueled a fire that is already considered the worst single fires in Texas history as far as land and property, and it is still going.

We don't know the numbers of lives lost. The last I heard the number was two, but those numbers are expected to rise as we can get into the damaged areas. But considering the size and ferocity of the fire the number of injuries and deaths seem surprising low, and we hope it stays that way.

Many people have asked what we need in Bastrop. To be honest most people don't know what they need. They don't know if they will be going home to a house or to nothing. Even the families like mine who have received confirmation that there is nothing are still dealing with the shock of this.

There are hundreds in shelters. There are thousands who are staying with friends, relatives, strangers, and in hotels.

Many, like us, got out with a change of clothes and our pets, some not even that. Some had more time.

The highs and lows have been immense. We've all heard and said many times over the last couple of days, it is people not things that are important. But those who have lost the most, rejoice the most when our friends get word that the line is holding and the may still have a home. Then we cry when the winds pickup and homes we thought might be spared are in danger again. We've learned to notice the difference in the colors of the smoke, and read it signals. We say a prayer for an unknown family when we see the smoke turn black which means another house is burning.

We rejoiced when on the Tuesday, the third day of the fire, we saw four blackhawk helicopters flying in formation in the distance, dumping water into clouds of smoke and flames; and we hoped that the extra man power and machines that arrived that day would slow the growth of the monstrous fire.

We stay busy to keep from crying, but our minds never stop. For example: I know I should be making a list of replaceable things we had in the house for the insurance company, but instead my mind keeps making a list of irreplaceable things that are lost. Usually tokens that would never go on a claims adjusters list, but have memories tied to them of people we have lost. Grandmother's bible with the family history. Daddy's war medals that he kept in a Band-Aid tin alongside his father's pocket watch. A letter about me written by my mother to her parents. My grandparents had saved it for 50 years. My aunt found it and sent it to me. I'd read it only once. Recipes handwritten by my grandmother on 5×7 index cards for me when I first got married. There are things from people who are still here, that I'd planned to share with my children. A box of stuff from my childhood, that included the first poems I'd ever written, and the first drawings and letters my husband gave me when he was courting me when we were 17. Pictures my daughter drew. Stories my son wrote. Yellow booties both my children wore home from the hospital. A tiny hospital bracelet which I'd joyously removed from my daughter's arm when she was two years old after almost dying with meningitis. A possible loss that makes this one seem tiny. A list too long to write that comes to me one item at a time while I'm trying to do other things, and one that I'm sure I'll be compiling for years.
We all have similar lists. We don't allow our minds to dwell on our losses long.

We try to chase away dark thoughts with humor.

The confirmation that the house is gone, lets us start the grieving process, allowing us to start making plans for the future. Right now we are staying in Austin with our son Eric and daughter-in-law Chrystina, who just this April were married in our backyard - a beautiful 5 acres that is now a bittersweet memory. They offered their bedroom, but we insisted on a blowup mattress on their living room floor. We've had relatives and friends offer us more comfortable accommodations; and while we are grateful there is great comfort in being within arms reach of our children and animals, so we stay here for now.

There have been many acts of heroism, unselfishness, and sharing. And there will be many more. Many will simply go unnoticed in the hugeness of this, but they tie our community tightly together, showing us again, it is people not things that are important.
We're heading off to help with the transfer of the pets and people from the middle school to a new location, so the schools can start back soon.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.

Engela Edwards

Note this is a group I set up so survivors could exchange information. 

If you have been displaced by the fire, or if you want to help, you might want to join -
Bastrop Fire Survivors Network:
Email [email protected] to
subscribe or go to
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bastrop-fire-survivors-network/ & click on
“join this group.”

From Saturday, September 10, 2011 
(I'd put together an exhibit from the Esquire Ballroom for the Bastrop Opera House.  And this is a letter to one of the owners of the photos and mementos.  I still had in my possession an original table and two chairs from the Esquire Ballroom, and original photographs taken at the Esquire Ballroom from the exhibit.)

Mary Lynne,

Just got to my mail account - no spell checker though.  I am at my son's in Austin.  We got out with our dogs and guinea pig and family.  We saw the smoke; there was no news on the TV about the fire, but we heard a police siren, so we headed to the front of our neighborhood to find out where the fire was.  We weren't allowed back in to get our stuff.  But we were lucky there were people at the entrance of the subdivision who had animals in their homes, and they weren't allowed to go get them.

If we'd known we were evacuating the house, we could have grab stuff.  We lost everything.  My mother had a stroke and was in the hospital for 10 days, she died the Tuesday before the fire.  We came home from Florida, so that we could be there when her ashes arrived.  I actually grabbed her ashes as I walked out the door. 

I have felt horrible, since along with my memories I also lost yours too!  Bill had scanned the exhibit photos, so we can do reprints.  I was so looking forward to showing off the displays I'd made with your photos, and getting pictures of people with them at the Esquire Reunion later this month, and now...I just feel horrible. 

We haven't been allowed back in, but there is only ash.

Thank you for writing.  I lost all my emails and phone numbers.  So I'm glad you emailed me.  We're heading to Bastrop now, because they are letting some more people come back into the area to look, and we hope we are in that group.

Engela

We need rain and no winds. 

Until we see the lot where our home used to stand, we won't know if we want to rebuild. We do know that there is nothing left of the house.

Obviously we love the people here, and a photo we received looked like there were still some trees alive on our land, unlike some of the burn areas where there is nothing but blackness. 

Looking up these things on line has proved fruitless, so what I'd like is information.  If someone has built recently, or are you a builder who wouldn't mind telling me about how much it would cost to rebuild? Or recommend a builder?  I'd appreciate the info. 

I'll also need someone who can tell me if the pool is salvageable. Any recommendations?

The plan now is to reopen the area where we live on Thursday if the current winds don't make the area too dangerous. The fire is now 70 percent contained, that means that they think they have stopped the growth on 70 percent of the exterior of the fire. In a fire this large that means that there are miles of the exterior that aren't considered contained.  And that the interior is still burning.

I can now get my mail at [email protected] 

Thank you in advance,
Engela
 

Another note to share. 

We didn't get in to see the lot again today.  To prepare myself, I've been calling it "the lot" and not the house for a week now.  We came home early, because Bill wanted to work on the list of EVERYTHING we had in our home for the insurance company, which is emotionally very difficult me.  Instead I was answering emails from people who sent condolences and offers of help.  I am finding those offers of help were, in their own way, just as difficult. 

It was then I realized that I've lived a life that has allowed me to be a giver and a sharer, and I have been lucky enough not to have to be on the receiving end.  I'm finding it impossible to accept anything except emotional support and information - two things I prize highly.  It is difficult, because I know there are people who have greater needs than we have.  Then I thought, this is EXACTLY like my grandmother and my father who were very creative and intelligent people who lived lives of service to their family and their community.  So while I don't have the quilt that Grandma made for my wedding, or the afghans she knitted for my children; and I don't have the yearbook dedicated to my father from his students when he was dying from lung cancer while he was still teaching everyday, or the beautiful china he bought while he was serving in Korea intended for a yet unknown future wife; I do have this thing that reminds me of them both, this need to be of service.  I hope I pass it down to my children, because it is very valuable indeed. 
 

We will see the remains of our home today. I laid in bed awake for hours unable to sleep, and so I decided to write.  I've been thinking that the loss of a home, can in a very small way be compared to a death in the family.  I've avoided saying it that way, for fear that people would think I was trivializing the loss of a loved one, which is not my intent. 

When this started, we were in a state of denial.  "There can't be a fire coming toward our house.  We've seen smoke many times before.  There isn't any news on TV."  Once we'd left our home, we hoped that our home would survive, but we believed that there was little chance.  We hoped for the best, and tried to prepare ourselves for the worst.  But really we were in limbo.  When we heard that there were at least two homes on our three-block-long street that had survived, we had a glimmer of hope that maybe they had just missed seeing ours since it was on the end of the street.  Bill said, "It is like the house is missing in action."  Not until we got the word that it was gone could we begin the morning process.  Seeing photos made it seem real.  Today is the private viewing for our family.  Then later today the insurance adjuster comes to officially declare the home dead.  Some friends have offered to come help us sift through the remains.  I'm having trouble accepting things, but I think the job of going through the remains will be too tough to handle alone, so accepting labor sounded good and it was a good excuse for a wake for our home. 

So I started to figure out what would be needed to sift through the ashes.  There wasn't much on line about how to do it.  So I started a list of things I thought we'd need.  It was then I realized that survivors need old clothes and shoes that they could wear and destroy.  I'd never thought about that.  (And you know those rolling ice chests, they could be used for luggage and storage now as most of us are in transition, and be used to keep water cold when we go to sift through the remains of our homes.)  We'd heard that Home Depot was making survivor buckets for those sorting through the remains of homes, so we thought we'd go there to purchase our supplies.  While we were there buying shovels, I asked an employee where the dust masks were.  She told me where they were and then asked why I needed them.  I told her that we'd lost our home to the fire.  She said to drive to the side of the building where they were giving out things to help go through the remains, like screens.  I said that we were aware of that, but we thought we'd purchase what we needed.  She said, "Please let us help you."  I told Bill that we should drive over and see what they were giving out, so we would have an idea of what to purchase. We realized that making a screen would have been easy before the fire, but now we didn't have any tools to do it.  Sitting in the truck in the line of vehicles, knowing that each one represented a lost house was surreal.  There was a compassionate volunteer there to tell us to just give them a minute, and ask how we were doing - a question that still makes me cry.  We could see other volunteers building wood-framed screens, some filling buckets, some carrying supplies.  We pulled into the space and people quickly loaded the bed of our truck with a shovel, a flat of water, and a bucket filled with some snacks we could eat, a pair of gloves, a dust mask, trash bags.  They were very efficient an we didn't have time to say no. 

We pulled around to the front of the store, looked at what they had given us, and then went inside and purchased $250 dollars worth of other things that we thought we would need.  The people working there were particularly helpful, that day.  We were often approached to see if we were finding everything we needed.  When we asked where something was, they would usually say things like, "In my store it is at 'x' place and then they would help us find it.  They had brought in employees and merchandise from other stores to meet our needs.  We met employees from Dripping Springs, and one from Marble Falls (approximately 70 miles away) who said that his store only had seen one family who'd lost their home in another fire near them on Labor Day weekend.  But he personally had lost a home to fire years before.  Everyone was patient, kind, and sharing.

Here is the list I made while waiting to find out when we might get into see the lot.
Things One Might Need to Start Sifting when the house is totally destroyed.
Including little things you probably don't have anymore.

• Hair rubber bands to pull your hair back.
• Something to cover your hair to keep the soot out, like a scarf, a hat, or a bandanna.
• Old clothes:  recommended are long sleeve shirts, and pants, and hard-soled shoes or work boots because of nails.
• Shovel 
• Rake
• Wood framed screen.
• Trash bags
• Particle dust mask.  Those with the exhaust valve are cooler to wear. 
• Paper towels.
• Drinking water. 
• Here it is expected to reach 100 degrees again today, so lots of ice and something to put it in.
• Sunscreen
• There aren't any rest rooms, so hopefully in your neighborhood there might be some houses standing and the neighbors would open their rest room to you.  I'm hopping there will be temporary toilets set up in our neighborhood, because we'll be dirty and would hate spread the soot into a neighbors home.
• I bought baby wipes to help clean up afterwards since there is no water.
• Plastic to protect your car when you leave, because you'll be covered with soot.  Large trash bags work well.
• Maybe a wheelbarrow, you'll know more after you see your home. 
• When it gets to real cleaning, you may need a chain saw for branches, but Logging is the second most dangerous profession in America, so we won't be taking down any 80-foot-tall trees.

After I wrote the list above information started coming in that said:  That the ash could be toxic and not to have children around it.  There goes my wake idea.
 

Others wrote a reminder to purchase a dual filter breathing mask.  And reminded us that 9/11 rescuers and victims have a higher cancer rate.  You know the pesticides that were in your garage or shed are now mixed in the ashes. Mercury and asbestos, lead paints, etc. are all possibilities, especially if your house is older... These are mixed in the ashes.  Also, all of these things from your neighbor's house can be in your ashes. 

Rachel Ross Youngbood sent this info which she found on the Bastrop County website, SOMEWHERE.  They are suggesting that you NOT take children into areas with ash or debris until cleanup is complete.
WHO SHOULD NOT WEAR RESPIRATORS?
• People with heart or lung disease should consult with their doctor before using a respirator.
• N-95 masks are not designed for children, who are in a critical period of development when toxic exposures can have a profound effects. Children should not be in the area with ash and damaged structures until cleanup is completed.
• People with facial hair in the area where there respirator touches the face (unless they shave those areas).

USING THE RESPIRATOR (FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS PROVIDED WITH THE MASK)

Choose a size that will fit over your nose and under your chin. It should seal tightly to your face.

Place the respirator over your nose and under your chin, with one strap below the ears and one strap above. If you are wearing a hat, it should go over the straps. 

Pinch the metal nose clip tightly over the top of your nose.

Discard the respirator when: (1) it becomes more difficult to breathe through it or (2) if the inside becomes dirty. Use a fresh respirator each day.

COMPLICATIONS AND HAZARDS

It takes more effort to breathe through a respirator. It can also increase the risk of heat stress. If you are working outside while wearing a respirator, take frequent breaks, especially if you are working in the heat or doing heavy work.

If you feel dizzy, lightheaded, or nauseated, tell someone, go to a less smoky area, remove your respirator, and get medical attention.

GENERAL POINTS

Respirators may help reduce exposure to airborne contaminants, but they do not eliminate the risk of exposure, symptoms and sickness.

Anyone with asbestos, lead, or mold in their house and might be exposed to these toxic substance and/or other hazardous materials should consult a professional.

N-95 respirators or other particulate respirators are not designed or certified for use against hazardous levels of gases and vapors, such as carbon monoxide, or for areas with low oxygen levels.

Masks have been obtained from different manufacturers. Please follow instructions provided with mask.

Someone sent a reminder to stay clear of remaining rock or brick walls that were previously held up by being attached to the house.  They can fall in the wind.

I saw Susan's post about needing volunteers to help sift through the fire damage today. 

After many days of sifting through the rubble that was once my home before our cleanup could begin, I'd like to add some things to the list of what volunteers or home owners might need.  After doing it, I have very different ideas than while we were just anticipating doing it.

Absolutely the most helpful items were:
99 cent Fiskars three-pronged hand-held gardening cultivator.  It was plastic and lightweight, strong enough to get through the debris but didn't break the little things we found. 
Very thick leather gloves.  The cheapest ones had the thickest leather.  About $2.
Something to sit on.  We tried those little pocket chairs "as seen on TV" they didn't work because it was too hard to balance on them and dig, but an upside down bucket worked, would have been more comfortable with padding. 
Little boxes to put the things you find into.  (Wish I'd brought newspaper to wrap them.)
Baby wipes to clean yourself a little.
Ice chest with ice & water. 
Dust masks.
Hats, sunscreen, thick blue jeans. 
We wore tennis shoes, because that is what we had.
If you can bring a lawn chair for your breaks you'll appreciate it.
A pocket-sized digital camera.
And a plastic garbage bag to sit upon on the way home to protect the seats in your car.

We never used the sifter that volunteers had built for us.  I assume that if there had been water poured on a typical house fire or if there had been rain, the water might dry and encase items in ash and then you might use a sifter and water to help find and release those items.  But I can only assume this, because there wasn't any water or rain on our fire. 

Tip:  Don't walk in debris, because you could crush the little items you'll find under the crumbled drywall that was once on the ceiling and walls.  Start on the edges and work your way into the middle. 

It is best if the homeowner can point to the most important places to search first.  Remember that if you're looking for something that was on a shelf, you should look not just below where the shelf stood, but behind and in front and beside where the shelf once stood.  The reason is that it may have toppled before it burned.  And by "behind" I mean in the next room area, too.  We found things that were on top of the shelf in the dining room in the garage.  Things that were on the second floor, if they survived will be in the same general area on the first floor, but they may have rolled or tumbled as they fell. 

The things that survived were mostly small ceramic pieces.  Out of a 2400 square feet of house and 500 square feet of a packed garage, I'd say we retrieved about 4 cubic feet of items.  We only had that much because I had some ceramic ornaments and jewelry stored in the garage from the 1980s when I was a ceramic artist.  And there was only that much, because it was easier to just put things in a box than to sit on the site and make decisions of whether I should keep something or not.

We took photos of some things to help us remember to put them on the contents list for our insurance.

From the yard there was some outdoor pottery pots that survived, and some of the rocks we'd collected.  Which meant we needed a storage place to keep them.  Strange to need storage.

There were some surprising finds in the house. 

In the center of my walk-in closet just feet from where the glass of the shower door and the huge bathroom mirrors had melted, in the middle of a layer of rubble, I found a tiny handblown-glass reindeer in perfect condition.  It had once been wrapped in tissue paper and set inside partitions of a handmade curio cabinet that my husband made for me when we were dating.  It had been on the top shelf of my closet.  I actually missed the glass ornament while digging with my little plastic handheld gardening cultivator, and had moved it to the pile of debris beside me before I noticed it. 

For those of you who read my earlier post.  I had no idea the location of the cardboard box I'd taken from my parents home that held my grandfather's pocket watch and a Band-Aid box with my father's medals and ribbons, but I stepped over the debris and went directly to the spot where it lay, and dug them up.  I guess my subconscious mind knew, or I was divinely inspired.  It was a small miracle either way.  The tin was black, and I only briefly looked inside.  The ribbons are ash, but the Marine pin was still recognizable.  I only opened the pocket watch box long enough to confirm the contents and film them.  It was only a semblance of what was once there, but it existed unlike so many other things.  Right below was the head of a China doll that had belonged to my great grandmother, that my grandmother had given to my mother.  My mother had made a body for it and clothes and given it to me for my children.  I'd forgotten that it had been in the box. 

There were some disappointment too.  We never found Bill's wedding ring.  There were three sets of family silver. I had envisioned a pool of silver where the boxes had been, but found only ruminants of a few pieces.  There wasn't a single usable or displayable piece of my father's china, but I chose the best of a couple of cups and saucers for my children in case they want them.  Considering the dishes had been in a very heavy wooden china hutch, that had totally disappeared along with the roof and asphalt shingles all held together with metal nails, it was nice to find something. 
 

Still at my son's and daughterinlaw, still cleaning, and still don't know what we'll do.  I haven't written for awhile, because there is so much to do, that writing is a luxury and indulgence. I've kept some notes and thought I'd write out a couple, so that I could get rid of them today.

We couldn't grieve or make any decisions in that time while our house was MIA, missing in action, (maybe it stood - maybe it didn't).  So everyday we'd drive the 33 miles from our son's house in Austin where we were staying to Bastrop.  We'd do volunteer work; we'd go searching for any information; and sometimes we'd just stand and watch the smoke and talk with others who were experiencing the same things.  We were thankful when a friend got us info about whether our home was standing so that we could begin the process of morning.  The day the area to the west of us was reopened, we drove through it, and it made us feel good to see that there was still a neighborhood there, even if the people who lived there were still without power and water and they were experiencing having to deal with smoke damage and refrigerators and freezers that had been without power for days, it would appear to others to be a normal neighborhood very soon.

One of the days, I was reminded in a minor way of another event in our families life.  Just days before our daughter Rachel turned two, she was admitted to the children's hospital in Austin, where she spent 18 days close to death with spinal meningitis.  Our family spent the next year in recovery.  It was during this time that I noted that the first time your child can lift her head, turn over, crawl, walk, talk, or any of the other expected developmental milestones, it is a joyous occasion; you laugh, you note it, and you share the news with friends, family, and even strangers.  The second time your child is able to lift her head, turn over, crawl, walk, or talk you cry and say a prayer of thanks, because it is an unexpected miracle. 

While we recover from this damaging fire, we find small things that bring us joy:

• A tiny blade of grass already emerging from a chard area in the front yard on the first day we saw our home. 
• The first roadrunner. 
• The day some birds returned.
• The day the birds started singing again. 
• Even the squirrels who once teased our dog and had started a love/hate relationship with us when they tore through the cushions on all our outdoor furniture to steal the stuffing to line their nests, they brought us joy the first time we saw one return to our yard.
• There had been a spiny lizard who was in the flower bed by our front door the day we moved into our home four-and-a-half years ago.  Through the years we've enjoyed her presence, we felt privileged to see her clutch of tiny eggs before she buried them, and we were often started by her as she noisily left her sunning spot on the rocks when we walked past.  We were pleasantly surprised to see she'd survived.
• Leaves have started to sprout at the bases of the young fig trees that surrounded the mother fig tree who had fed the squirrels and bird, and shared her fruit with us.  . 
• Leaves have also started sprouting at the base of one of the crepe myrtles. 
• After days of sifting, sorting through, then shoveling the rubble (which I'll write about later), there were moments of entertainment as each of us pushed down the partial rock walls, before we could spend still more days of separating the limestone rocks from the brittle mortar that had once secured it.  We could envision the new garden walls that these rocks might someday make.

Bill said that he was looking forward to seeing more first as the life came back to the land.  One the third day after we'd been allowed back, after a particularly long hot day of work, after we'd rescued very little from the ash, we sat in the van before driving away, after taking one last look for the day, I said, "It still feels like home," and Bill agreed as he proceeded to take the house key and truck key from his key chain.  I could not remove the house key from my ring and used the excuse that the key is actually a little flashlight that I might need, but I know that I'm just not ready yet.  When we first arrived at the home site, in addition to the burned trees that still stood and the holes where trees once stood, there were still tall trees around that were green. But as we worked everyday, we watched the trees turn brown, and the black burned ground slowly turn a reddish brown as the needles dropped from the tall pines.  Those first aerial photos that showed the sadly burned home site, had also showed a hope-filling green covering over a lot of our five acres.  But that hope was slowly receding as we watched the needles fall.  I thought how stupid of me to think that a green pine tree was a living pine tree, after all it takes a long time for Christmas trees to die and turn brown after being cut. 

One day as we arrived at the lot, we passed a crew of men and women digging out the underground remains of a tree that still smoldered.  Using axes, shovels, a water truck, and a lot of effort, they wet the coals that had been burning for weeks, before  those embers could ignite the now falling pine needles and spread the fire once again.  I felt the need to take pictures, so I could get close enough to the firefighters to say thank you.  Then I left them to their work before I started to cry, so they wouldn't see.  They put out the fire and quickly moved on to the next place somewhere within the very large perimeter of the fire. 

A few days ago, a helicopter carrying a bucket of water, flying so low that we could see the water leaking from it, added its noise to constant sound of chain saws that have been removing trees both green and brown from the area for weeks.  Unlike the joy of seeing the arrival of the helicopters on the third day of the fire, this helicopter brought a little fear and sadness at the thought that even though it had been almost a month there were still fires to fight and they were so close. 

There is simply too much to comprehend and do.  For us the first thing to do is to get the house site safe. 

Today I'm looking for ideas and suggestions. 

We haven't decided if we'll rebuild.  We want to see if any trees survive, and I still worry about how toxic the area will be.  Even with insurance we've taken a huge financial loss on the house, land, and contents.   If we do rebuild and ever need to sell the house, we believe it would be difficult to sell, and that we could recoup the cost of the new house.  Our neighbors are facing these same problems.  The ones we've been able to talk with have said they aren't rebuilding.  Simply the cost of taking down the dead trees is more than the cost of buying a new lot that wasn't damaged by fire. 

One of our favorite things about our home was the pool and hot tub.  Today's goal is to get the pool and hot tub closed down, so it will be safe for wandering animals and people, and still be able to be used one day if we decide to rebuild.  The are no fences around the pool because they burned.  There is no electricity and no water.  In fact no electric meter loop and no water lines to the pool.  Once the water lines to the pool pump were melted by the fire, the water level lowered to the level of the pump, and over the last month with many days over 100 degrees, there has been the normal evaporation.  Some of the jets melted and so has the skimmer.  Eight edge tiles feel off.  The rocks that were around one side of the pool were damaged, and chard limbs from burned trees feel into the pool, but it looks like the shell of the pool is still intact.  Right now we're just throwing in chlorine and mosquito dunks. 

Some people have said to just fence it and cover it.  Some people have said to just fence it and have people come by periodically and add chlorine to keep the mosquitoes from breading.  Bill thinks either of those ideas would be dangerous to deer and children if they were to return to the area.  It may be more than a year before we know what trees survived, and even longer before we could rebuild.  He thinks it would be safer to rent a generator and pump, then pump out the water, remove the organic debris that has fallen into the pool, somehow cover the drains, jets, and skimmer, and then fill the pool with sand.  Because of the terrain, there isn't away to get trucks back to the pool, so we'll have to have someone dump the sand in the front, then we'd shovel it into wheelbarrows, and take it back to the pool.  It is a whole lot of sand.  Where would we get it?  Do I have friends or contacts with sand or pool knowledge?  Does sand and water weigh more than water alone, and if so would filling it with sand possibly damage the shell anyway?

I've spent more time writing than I intended, and need to now go for the second time to get my birth certificate replaced.  They couldn't find me the first time.  Which is kind of funny in a way. 

---

Well we've looked at houses and spaces in person and on line until we are weary of looking.  In the beginning our search was mostly confined to Bastrop, then Central Texas, then Texas, then New Mexico, then Colorado, then California and Nevada, and currently we are in Hawaii.