'a six-inch layer of topsoil and the fact that it rains...'

'despite all our accomplishments, we owe our existence to a six-inch layer of topsoil and the fact that it rains.'

this  'old adage' (repeated in when the flames went out, LA review of books, anthony dinh tran, 25th january 2026)  is, in fact, by the (somewhat complicated) US broadcaster paul harvey (he's kind of the anti-studs terkel, studs terkel told everyday tales but he was a leftist, harvey, on the other hand, told tales of everyday life but was a right-winger and a friend of j. edgar hoover).

this probably explains the author's reticence in naming him.. 

horsemouth is enjoying tran's story 

the burnt orange trees must be cut down, six inches of contaminated topsoil must be removed (lead contamination), the costs of rebuilding mount up, and does tran really want to be there anyway? 

he can get the house designed (he works in an architecture adjacent field), he can email his mum for feng shui advice, but can he get it built, can he get the insurance paid (and the federal grants). 

it has its jg ballard moments of suburbia destroyed, possessions lost, ruins left. 

it is one of a series of articles one year on from the fires. but there are other articles on LA fires and rebuilding.

right now (as horsemouth types this) it is raining in the wilds. in fact it is dropping little 1mm sided cubes of ice (but these soon melt). the chickens have been out on patrol on the hill, at their height there were six, now it's down to a foolhardy two, now they are all driven back under cover. 

horsemouth's itchy feet want him to walk but he doesn't want to generate a stampede to the gate by hungry chickens thinking he is bringing food, he will have to sneak round the other side of the house. 

in the end he went over there to get wood for the fire so that set them off. 

later he went over to feed them and lock them up for the night (and collect any eggs laid). 

the weather is looking properly shit out here for the next two weeks. it's a grey misty morning with everything outside thoroughly sodden. today egg deliveries and the bin must be wombled down the drive. soon horsemouth must dig the compost into the garden and get on with growing this years crops.

and flowers. he should probably start growing flowers. 

oh dear a name has cropped up from the past. horsemouth can't say he's best pleased. it crops up now and then. it's a reminder to him that however distant it all feels there are still connections.