There's a wildfire out near the Nevada state line that's sending smoke into the East Bay, particularly as far east as we live. It finally cooled down enough to have open windows instead of the air conditioner, and now I'm torn between opening the windows for cool air and closing them for smoke. Right now we can't actually smell the smoke, but you can see it's there, and we can feel it in our throats. The cats aren't sneezing yet, so I'm not too concerned.
This is the closest we've been to a wildfire since the 2003 San Diego fire. Adjusting to earthquakes had been bad enough in moving to Southern California from the East Coast. But waking up one morning wondering why it smelled like a campfire and why it looked like it had snowed (inches of ash covered everything) is probably something I'll never forget. We weren't ever in any danger, but what a bizarre few days, as we breathed the smoke and felt the heat of a huge fire burning just 10 miles from us. The smoke and haze today is just a tiny portion of how bad it was those few days. For us, anyway. Once again we seem to be the ones who just happen to be in the right place. But I spent all last summer and fall glancing up at the dry grass covering Mt. Diablo, and I'm doing it again this fire season.
(Image from EON.)