Many instead found little more than concrete foundations, ashen rubble and memories.

The wildfires, among the worst natural disasters ever to hit California, had killed at least 10 people as of Friday morning and destroyed or badly damaged more than 10,000 structures, authorities said.

Aerial images of some scorched neighborhoods - including parts of Pacific Palisades, a mostly affluent enclave west of downtown, and Altadena, a diverse neighborhood on L.A.'s eastern edge - show block after block of homes burned to the ground, as if in a war zone.

Those who survived say they feel fortunate to have escaped with their lives. But many shed tears over family homes lost and fears about futures filled with uncertainty.

In a neighborhood of 60 homes ravaged by the Palisades Fire, the only thing left standing at Rick McGeagh's ranch house near the Will Rogers State Park is a statue of the Virgin Mary he installed when they moved there in 1998. It had belonged to his grandmother who had died a year earlier.

He called the statue's survival an "amazing blessing" in a terrible time. "I think it's miraculous."

McGeagh, 61, a commercial real estate broker who along with his wife raised three children at their home, said only six homes in his neighborhood remained standing.

"Everything else is ash and rubble," he told Reuters on Friday.

He first noticed the fire on Tuesday, when he was out walking his dog near the park and saw odd looking white clouds that turned out to be smoke. He rushed home, packed everything that he could grab in his car and fled with his wife.

Later they watched the progression of the fire that day on their home security camera. "At five, we saw the neighbor's house across the street go. Then our camera went out."

"We're obviously devastated, but grateful to have each other," McGeagh said.

AVOCADO TREE OFFERS SLIVER OF HOPE

In the Altadena neighborhood, Alita Johnson, a lifelong resident whose home burned down, was seeking assistance at an evacuation center on Thursday when she bumped into a friend there. After greeting the man and giving him a hug, Johnson, 61, said: "I lost my house."

In a reply all too common in Los Angeles this week, her friend replied, "I know, I'm sorry - we lost everything, too."

En route to see the charred plot of land where her home once stood, Johnson, sitting in the passenger seat of a car, pointed ahead of her and told a Reuters reporter, "This is where I live."

In a trembling voice, Johnson then corrected the verb tense: "Where I lived."

Her voice rose a little as she noted that her avocado tree survived. It was one of the few signs of hope in sight.

"Nothing prepares you for this amount of destruction," she said, her eyes welling with tears.

ON THE STREET

"Now we're homeless," Paul Lewis, another Altadena resident whose home burned down, said on Thursday in a matter-of-fact voice. "We're searching for a place to stay."

Lewis and his wife had tried to return to their burned-down home in the hope of recovering any personal effects not consumed in the flames, he said. But the area where they live was blocked off to vehicle traffic. He didn't want to walk the mile (1.6 km) or so to their home with two young children and a dog in tow.

A day earlier they were able to reach the home by car and found it burned down to the foundations, still smoldering. Lewis said that his garage was still on fire that day.

Hotels in the area are fully booked, mostly by people forced to flee their homes, Lewis said. AirBnBs and Vrbos were scarce, he said.

Lewis said his house was covered by insurance - but he was girding for a long fight to recover its value. He foresaw a scenario in which he would have to hire an attorney "to make sure we're protected."

"Insurance companies for a while have been trying to drop coverage for people like us, who live near natural habitat," he said, referring to the nearby Eaton Canyon area. "I'm sure they'll do everything they can to undercut our claim."

OVERWHELMED BY DESTRUCTION

At a mobile home park in Pacific Palisades, Curtis, who said he would not like his last name to be published, grimaced and his eyes welled with tears as he took in the burnt ruins all around him. Asked what he had lost, Curtis replied immediately and simply: "Everything."

Then he recalled that he did have his vehicle and "whatever's in the car."

Overwhelmed by the scenes of destruction around him, Curtis added that he hoped a feral neighborhood cat - a beloved local character - "hopefully made it out safely."