I'm reading a wonderful book, "The Night Watchman," by Native American author Louise Erdrich. She is one of my favorite authors.

The story is set in 1954 when the U.S. government moved to terminate the Cheyenne tribe. This would force tribe members to leave their ancestral lands and move to cities. It's the story of how they fought to keep their land, homes and community.

This passage grabbed me:

"Finally, the men left the fire and went in for food. Patrice was alone. Once, her back prickled. She looked around, but nothing. She turned back and fell into a fire-trance, staring at the way the wood whitened at the edges as the fire glowed from the center. Just at the corner of her vision, something moved again. She looked around. At the edge of the woods, at the bottom of the trail, something or somebody was slipping through the trees. She watched it flickering in and out of the branches."

Since childhood, I have fallen into fire-trances, gazing into a fire. It's mesmerizing.

For over a decade, Washington State has a burn ban during the summer. On overnight backpacking hikes, I joked about sitting around the candle lantern, telling stories and lies.

Although I miss campfires, the risk is not worth it. With massive, explosive wildfires throughout the West, I now fear fire.

Your thoughts?

Photo: Sleepy Hollow fire in Wenatchee, WA burned 2,950 acres, destroying 29 homes and several commercial buildings. It was started by a mentally ill man with a Bic lighter in dry grass and high winds. It was terrifying. I was evacuated.