On a clear hot day, when you can see every bush and patch of rock in hills thirty miles away, a spark catches a tuft of grass afire, and the wind puffs it up into a conflagration that belches up a pillar of smoke.
Because the day is so clear, you can see the smoke from everywhere, a looming, three-dimensional reminder that all this paradisiacal weather comes at a high cost for some.
By this time tomorrow, the wind will have switched a few times, and this well-defined totem of destruction will have been transformed into a dun smear blown all across the northern skyline, obscuring shapes that today stood clear and distinct.Fire season has begun.
2 comments:
Hope they got that out quickly... as quickly as you got your camera out.
That sucks for all of you living in paradise.
Back here, when the nice weather returns, so does Congress.
That's what we get for our past sins.
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