Where there’s smoke.

Drought.  “Red flag weather.”  Dry lightning, careless motorists, and downed power lines.

All of these contributed to the fires ringing the valley I live in – which is now essentially a big bowl of smoke.  Every surface outside is dusted with ash, and the reek of burnt grass is unavoidable. The light has a strange, dim quality to it, and the shadows at noon are watery things surrounded by orange and gold as the sun tries to filter though the smoke.

It almost looks like we’re having cloudy, overcast days, but it’s more like fog — at times over the last week, visibility dropped down to less than half a mile.  Days are darker and cooler, more like late fall than early summer.  The air quality is abysmal and breaking records, and because of this, it’s been uncharacteristically quiet outside: when you step outside your door, you can’t breathe.  Even people without health issues are struggling.

Yesterday morning, for the first time in more than a week, I went outside and the air didn’t smell like ash as the sun edge up into the sky.  I watched a patch of blue sky for a few minutes — then it was swallowed up by smoke again.

But the sunsets have been amazing.