One day you can see the mountains and the next day they vanish. It’s wildfire season. I’ve been coming here for ten years now and this is the worst year yet. And there’s no reprieve in sight.

Hiding inside with air-conditioning is the new norm although we can still smell the smoke inside. Even when we’ve gone to the cinema you can smell the smoke indoors. There is no escape.

Tomorrow we’re off to Waterville for the NCW Fair. We’ll be armed with our n95s. Everything is outdoors.

Another day of final editing in the third book of the trilogy. Determined to get it published before I leave. And I’m leaving earlier than usual this year.

Let’s lighten this post up with some humor.

Little Johnny asks his mom, “Mommy, where do babies come from?”
Mom sighs, decides it is time for the talk, and explains the facts of life in detail.
When she finishes, she asks, “Do you understand now, Johnny?”
Little Johnny nods and says, “Not really. But it makes sense. My friend Timmy said he came from Cleveland, and I was just wondering where I came from.”