Ring of Fire | KCET
Ring of Fire
Tuesday, 5:00 a.m. through the Sepulveda Pass, heading to the San Fernando Valley, the sun's about two hours away. The full moon's ahead, above the mountain tops behind Chatsworth.
During a total eclipse of the sun, the moon grows a circle of light around its edges. As the downhill begins, the ring of light had fallen off and trekked in slow anger, broken, up those mountains, swallowing chaparral and everything else in its way.
The winds toss the fire from hilltop to hilltop. The helicopters buzzed mosquito-like, dropping fire retardant spread by the winds. Where the fire skipped the freeway, small plumes of smoke rise in a continuous smoke signal. It's a lush tree city here and that keeps most of the embers from gobbling up even more terrain.
Near the hills, in the suburban edge called Porter Ranch, the Santa Ana winds are an abusive husband, shaking tree branches until they fall, bloodless. The winds let down, then pick up. The trees flail hysterically again, shedding leaves. The wind picks them up and heads toward the ocean.
Yurok relationships with other people and with land, water, animals, and plants form an extremely complex network of moral obligations. People care for all of their family members, and their kin — including condors and salmon — reciprocate the care.
Astrophysicist Andrea Ghez, user experience designer Evan Sullivan, and choreographer Kyle Abraham talked about everything from what it means to be creative to how we can overcome creative fears.
Places like Taylor Yard give us a window to explore ways to balance the city's critical needs for green space, livable space and climate change strategies.
A Q&A will immediately follow the screening with actor Susan Kelechi Watson and production designer Jade Healy.
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