I've got to admit that I'm getting tired of an entire summer of smoke in the air. I like to take my pontoon out at night, stick the sea legs into a sandbar, lean a seat back and star gaze. Maybe bring a camera and time-lapse—but not this summer. I like to wake up and smell the fresh air, the smell of conifers—but not this summer. I smell smoke. I like to take my RZR to look at vistas from high places, but the surrounding forest looks like a manufacturing city with a haze that covers everything from thousands of feet up all the way down. Even the sunsets are mysterious with red sunsets long before the sun creeps down over the horizon.
Earlier today for the second time this summer, I could not see across my lake because of the smoke from Canadian wildfires.
This afternoon I plan to pop into my garage and weld up a broken hydraulic ram yoke and I don't know what is worse: keeping the garage doors closed so as to not let the Canadian forest fire smoke in, or throwing the doors open so as to not breath welding fumes.
A cloudless, sunny afternoon at my place right now.
