August 16, 2004

• Yecch…

  The sky is hazy brown, the sunlight is orange in hue, and as it rose
  this morning it was just a rusty-red disk in the sky giving little
  light.  Now that it’s above the haze, it’s brighter out there, and
  hot… and smoky.  Breathing this stuff is not easy.   I
  keep thinking about Mountain Mama, my friend Barb who lives up north
  where the fires are burning, and the hundreds of firefighters trying to
  keep the fire away from settled areas.

  Some of this smoke may not be coming from the interior, though. 
  Greyfox called as I was writing this, to tell me he’d just seen four
  fire trucks headed out of town in our direction.  If it is a
  nearby wildfire, this would be bad timing.  After a couple of days
  of near-dead calm weather, the wind has come up today.

  This is not the sort of sky and light we usually have here.

  This is what I’m used to:
  

  and this:
  

  This is what we have now:
  

  I have never seen our forest as sick as it is this summer.  Every
  aspen tree I’ve seen around here and for forty miles or so down the
  valley is showing silvery leaves that have been tunneled out by leaf
  miners.
  

  Willows, alders and other plants are all chewed up by insects.
  

  First it was the wild rose bushes that were covered with big splotches
  of mildewy stuff, then they turned brown and dried up.  Now those
  gray splotches are on other trees and shrubs.  The smaller gray
  spots on the darker leaves in the bacground at the right of the shot
  below are more insect damage, different insects.
  

  I didn’t have to do any searching to find those examples of sick and
  damaged plants.  They are everywhere.  I looked around for
  healthy plants, and about the only ones I found were birch trees, and
  lingonberries growing low to the ground.  The yellow leaves below
  are probably the natural color of the season, and not a sign of
  sickness.  Leaves are falling already here.  The fireweed
  flowers are mostly gone to seed now at this end of the valley.
  

  My melancholy mood could be partly seasonal, too.  I’m better now
  than when I used to get a panicky migratory urge about this time every
  year.  I don’t fear winter as I used to.  I do wonder what
  will become of the aspens whose leaves are all mined out, and the wild
  roses that died off this summer.

  I don’t think this is what the people had in mind a few years ago, who
  had bumper stickers printed up:  “Support Global Warming, bring
  palm trees to Alaska.”  We all laughed at it, never realizing that
  the bugs would have to move in and eat the trees we have, to make room
  for the palms.

  Even with the haze blocking some sunlight, it’s over eighty degrees out
  there now.  Even with the breeze blowing outside, the indoor temp
  is cooler now.  That’s rare here.  Even in summer it’s
  usually warmer indoors than out.  Not complaining — just
  reporting… the cool temp in here, that is.  I am complaining,
  whining, about the air that’s not fit to breathe.

  It’s hard.  Greyfox says it’s just as bad at his end of the
  valley, too.  It burns our throats, makes us cough.  
  Particles stick in our eyes and make them itch, leaving deposits in the
  corners.  I’m considering the old cowboy trick:  wet bandana
  tied over the face, to filter out some of the smoke.

  

  • 7:10 pm
  • 13 Comments