This morning I looked eastward at that haze-filtered sun, and thanked the haze for not being a haze caused by smoke.
So it made me think of last September's fires. The leaden, wrong-colored skies we lived with for days and days, due to too much of the Columbia River Gorge burning. The smells, the difficulty breathing: none of that is here now. I am relieved about that.
It turned out to be good walking weather. This afternoon I walked to the Woodstock neighborhood and then to the south of it before heading back to Woodstock, reading Patton Oswalt's second memoir Silver Screen Fiend. I also made two trips to the Woodstock library, for some indoor sitting-and-reading time, plus some time online.
And all in clear, clean air. This is a gift.
