It’s amazing how fast the plant life in the river bottom is rebounding after the fire almost a month ago.

Of our well-loved trees, the black walnut has a lot of new growth; the liquidambar — not so much.  In fact, nothing that we can see.  I’m afraid it’s not going to make it.  We’re watering all of the scorched trees heavily.  Some will make it, some won’t.  We’ll  replace the ones that don’t, when we’re sure which ones they are.

But in the river bottom, the willows are sprouting from the roots.

Everywhere you look, there is new green growth.

Not all of it is willow.  This is a common riverside plant, with pungent-smelling leaves.  Billy’s mother used to use it in her chicken house, to repel insects.

Willows are tough, for all their delicate appearance.  This one survived two disasters; first, being cut down by PG&E, and then the fire.

Across on the island, an unknown plant continues to grow incredibly fast.  I thought it might be bamboo, but its pale color doesn’t seem right.  It has an almost ghostly appearance, behind the blackened trees.

As long as there’s enough water coming down to keep the water table up, the river will continue to heal.  It’s a drought year, though; we can only hope there’s enough water to keep the flow up.  We had a couple of hopeful fisherpersons (of the female variety) a week or so ago, asking permission to park so they could go down to the river.  That was fine . . . but I’m not sure I would want to eat anything that came out of that river right now.

Oh, yes . . . there was a big roadrunner on the lawn this morning.  There hasn’t been one around for months, at least not to be seen.  This was a fine proud fellow.  I hope he hangs around.