
Unlike many of my Berkeley hills neighbors, here's why I'm happy to comply with new fire rules
All the fruit trees I planted during a season of high hopes but never fruited? I've given them the ax (literally).
The gangly guavas that should have been pruned years ago? Off with their heads.
You can probably tell that I'm not very sentimental about such things. But this I know: Climate change is making wildfires a bigger threat, and if I were to lose my small house in a fire, I would be absolutely wrecked. All my dreams, my life's travails, gone up in smoke? No, thank you.
So that's why I've already begun to adhere to Berkeley's contentious wildfire safety ordinance. No arguments, no fuss, no regrets.
Last month, the Berkeley City Council voted unanimously to implement the new regulations. This comes when, thanks to the rising threat of wildfires, private insurance companies have been canceling homeowners' policies in the Berkeley hills at an alarming rate. I'm fortunate I have one of the good insurance companies and haven't had my policy canceled (yet?).
The new ordinance, which goes into effect at the end of the year, requires homeowners to clear all flammable materials within 5 feet of their house, including plants and trees. Wind-borne embers, wildfire experts say, would then have less chance of igniting the house. The idea is to create more resiliency against wildfire at the wildland-urban interface. My home is on this interface's frontline, as are about 800 other houses in the Berkeley hills.
Houses, of course, are a huge fuel source for fires, and we should do everything we can to minimize the risk of a house-to-house conflagration similar to the Pacific Palisades fire in January that killed 12 people and destroyed more than 6,800 structures or the Oakland hills firestorm in 1991 that killed 25 and destroyed about 3,500 houses, apartments and condominiums.
Makes perfect sense to me that we should take action to try to spare whole neighborhoods from burning down.
But this is Berkeley. Spend five minutes in the online cesspool for our neighborhood, or sit in on one of the City Council meetings, and you'll learn that the new regulations have no shortage of vocal detractors.
There's the strident woman and prolific NextDoor poster who claims she 'speaks for the trees' but who doesn't even own property in the area. (She's a renter, apparently.)
Or the people who have glommed onto a Los Angeles Times op-ed about how camellias next to a house can deflect wildfire, an assertion that, at closer examination, is unproven.
Then there's the many-senior-citizens-on-fixed-incomes-can't-afford-it crowd. City officials say that the average cost to homeowners in the affected area to be compliant with the ordinance will be between $2,000-$5,000. Lower-income residents can seek help with these costs from a $1 million Cal Fire grant and funding from Measure FF, an emergency response and preparedness parcel tax.
Other incensed Berkeley residents have advocated for ignoring the new ordinance and are encouraging lawsuits against the city.
Sure. We're all entitled to our opinions and lived experience. Here's mine: My beloved youngest sister lived in Altadena until Jan. 7, when the Eaton Fire swept through the Los Angeles County city. By some miracle and the valiant efforts of a neighbor and two good Samaritans, her house was spared.
Rows of houses around hers burned to the ground. The wildfire smoke contaminated every nook and cranny in her home. Every stick of furniture, every geegaw, every shred of clothing had to be packed up and taken offsite for decontamination or disposal.
She and her family won't be able to move back into their home for several more months. It's been rough, to say the least.
Here's another thing that would absolutely wreck me: knowing that I could have done something to prevent my home from burning down, but didn't. Or knowing that my burning house ignited my neighbors' houses. Or knowing that our houses caused a burning cascade that spread down the hills to other neighborhoods.
That's why I said adios to two beautiful red maples (yes, that hurt) and the rhododendron that produced such sweet little flowers every spring (that hurt, too).
I have huge respect for our Mayor Adena Ishii, our Fire Chief David Sprague, our Council Member Brett Blackaby and the rest of the City Council for having the foresight and strength to try to build resiliency against this looming hazard.
For all the folks who are yelling at the public meetings and writing long, angry walls of words against the ember ordinance, know that there are plenty of us who are quietly doing the important work of protecting our homes and community against the potentially devastating damage from wildfires.
Oh, and one more thing: Since I turned my overgrown yard into grassland, two fledgling great horned owls, giant floofs of floofy feathers, have been hunting rodents in my backyard. Life is good. Let's keep it that way.

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


CBS News
3 days ago
- CBS News
Kerrville emails, texts show local leaders spent hours unaware of flood's tragic toll
The CBS News Texas I-Team obtained dozens of text messages and emails exchanged between Kerrville city officials as they learned of the devastation caused by the Guadalupe River flooding on July Fourth. The texts, which began around 5:30 a.m. that day, first focused on the Independence Day festival planned at a city park. "Heavy rain in Hunt. Water is coming up at Louise Hayes. Port-a-potties floating away. The waterline is at the base of the stage right now," texted one assistant city manager. Another responded, "Are there still kids at camp in Hunt?" "Don't know," came the response. Minutes later, the city manager sent a group text to Kerrville city council members warning of "major flooding." One member responded, "Oh, my!! I didn't realize we had that much rain." Another texted, "Ugh!!! Not what we needed today." At 6:32 a.m., Kerrville police called for evacuations along several streets filled with RVs and apartments. Ten minutes later, the city sent a mass email warning residents to avoid driving down flooded streets: "Much needed rain swept through Kerrville overnight, but the downside is the severe weather may impact many of today's scheduled July 4th events." By 8:30 a.m., the mayor was signing a disaster declaration, but emails show it took another half hour for the emergency management coordinator to call in off-duty firefighters to help with rescue efforts. Just after 10 a.m., it appears the toll began to sink in for many council members. In the group chat, one message read, "Heard 32 missing from camps?!" Another replied, "I heard that too..." The city manager responded with updates on the rescue efforts and appeared to criticize the county's response at the time. "The county is reacting poorly to this but we are assisting, especially since we have unconfirmed reports of kids missing from Camp Mystic and some resorts out west. We are attempting to gain access but it's still an ongoing and developing situation." Hours later, at 6:14 p.m., another mention of the camps. The city manager texted the council, "We have three no-answer camps, Camp Mystic is the big one in question, all other camps are accounted for." Twenty-seven campers and counselors from Camp Mystic would later be confirmed dead. The texts also reveal personal connections and losses. One council member texted, "My friend is still waiting on word of his sister. Missing." The city attorney shared that one of his friends was among the dead, calling it a "devastating day" for the community. The next day, the city manager texted his team words of support: "Take the time you need, cry, grieve, hug someone, vent, anything so you can focus on getting back into the fight." He later added, "Most of our team have not been through a disaster of this scale. Many people don't go through disasters of this scale." Later, one city staffer shared, "Just watched crews pull a counselor out of debris, so that will stick with me."


Bloomberg
15-07-2025
- Bloomberg
Nextdoor Relaunches Network With a Focus on News, Alerts and AI
Nextdoor Holdings Inc., the neighborhood-focused social network, unveiled a slew of new features as part of a sweeping redesign that aims to highlight more urgent content and boost user engagement. The changes include an alert system for critical events, including power outages and severe weather, Nextdoor said on Tuesday. And there's a local news offering that will prominently feature reports from 3,500 partner publications around the US, UK and Canada, displayed in a carousel at the top of users' feeds.


San Francisco Chronicle
08-07-2025
- San Francisco Chronicle
Unlike many of my Berkeley hills neighbors, here's why I'm happy to comply with new fire rules
That weird bush/tree that my ex-fiancé planted before he dumped me for a gal half his age? It's outta here. All the fruit trees I planted during a season of high hopes but never fruited? I've given them the ax (literally). The gangly guavas that should have been pruned years ago? Off with their heads. You can probably tell that I'm not very sentimental about such things. But this I know: Climate change is making wildfires a bigger threat, and if I were to lose my small house in a fire, I would be absolutely wrecked. All my dreams, my life's travails, gone up in smoke? No, thank you. So that's why I've already begun to adhere to Berkeley's contentious wildfire safety ordinance. No arguments, no fuss, no regrets. Last month, the Berkeley City Council voted unanimously to implement the new regulations. This comes when, thanks to the rising threat of wildfires, private insurance companies have been canceling homeowners' policies in the Berkeley hills at an alarming rate. I'm fortunate I have one of the good insurance companies and haven't had my policy canceled (yet?). The new ordinance, which goes into effect at the end of the year, requires homeowners to clear all flammable materials within 5 feet of their house, including plants and trees. Wind-borne embers, wildfire experts say, would then have less chance of igniting the house. The idea is to create more resiliency against wildfire at the wildland-urban interface. My home is on this interface's frontline, as are about 800 other houses in the Berkeley hills. Houses, of course, are a huge fuel source for fires, and we should do everything we can to minimize the risk of a house-to-house conflagration similar to the Pacific Palisades fire in January that killed 12 people and destroyed more than 6,800 structures or the Oakland hills firestorm in 1991 that killed 25 and destroyed about 3,500 houses, apartments and condominiums. Makes perfect sense to me that we should take action to try to spare whole neighborhoods from burning down. But this is Berkeley. Spend five minutes in the online cesspool for our neighborhood, or sit in on one of the City Council meetings, and you'll learn that the new regulations have no shortage of vocal detractors. There's the strident woman and prolific NextDoor poster who claims she 'speaks for the trees' but who doesn't even own property in the area. (She's a renter, apparently.) Or the people who have glommed onto a Los Angeles Times op-ed about how camellias next to a house can deflect wildfire, an assertion that, at closer examination, is unproven. Then there's the many-senior-citizens-on-fixed-incomes-can't-afford-it crowd. City officials say that the average cost to homeowners in the affected area to be compliant with the ordinance will be between $2,000-$5,000. Lower-income residents can seek help with these costs from a $1 million Cal Fire grant and funding from Measure FF, an emergency response and preparedness parcel tax. Other incensed Berkeley residents have advocated for ignoring the new ordinance and are encouraging lawsuits against the city. Sure. We're all entitled to our opinions and lived experience. Here's mine: My beloved youngest sister lived in Altadena until Jan. 7, when the Eaton Fire swept through the Los Angeles County city. By some miracle and the valiant efforts of a neighbor and two good Samaritans, her house was spared. Rows of houses around hers burned to the ground. The wildfire smoke contaminated every nook and cranny in her home. Every stick of furniture, every geegaw, every shred of clothing had to be packed up and taken offsite for decontamination or disposal. She and her family won't be able to move back into their home for several more months. It's been rough, to say the least. Here's another thing that would absolutely wreck me: knowing that I could have done something to prevent my home from burning down, but didn't. Or knowing that my burning house ignited my neighbors' houses. Or knowing that our houses caused a burning cascade that spread down the hills to other neighborhoods. That's why I said adios to two beautiful red maples (yes, that hurt) and the rhododendron that produced such sweet little flowers every spring (that hurt, too). I have huge respect for our Mayor Adena Ishii, our Fire Chief David Sprague, our Council Member Brett Blackaby and the rest of the City Council for having the foresight and strength to try to build resiliency against this looming hazard. For all the folks who are yelling at the public meetings and writing long, angry walls of words against the ember ordinance, know that there are plenty of us who are quietly doing the important work of protecting our homes and community against the potentially devastating damage from wildfires. Oh, and one more thing: Since I turned my overgrown yard into grassland, two fledgling great horned owls, giant floofs of floofy feathers, have been hunting rodents in my backyard. Life is good. Let's keep it that way.