Climate change is not our friend

Lately, about every second or third day, we are bathed in smoke. At first I thought the forestry department was doing controlled burns in the national forest nearby, but then I realized they'd never be so foolish since the weather is so dry. Then I thought there might be local brush fires, but none of consequence came over the s.o.'s fire department pager.

Finally I realized it was smoke from the vast, raging wildfires in southeastern Georgia, about 150 miles away. When the prevailing winds are a certain way, we get a faceful of it. It lingers in a thick, polluting haze. It must be terrible closer to the fire. It is expected to keep burning until the area is hit by a hurricane.

There is no rain here. Everyone's crops are a month behind and tenuous at best. The grass crunches when you step on it, and clouds of dust rise whenever a vehicle turns onto a dirt road.

The other night some dimwit was shooting off fireworks. The s.o. and I tried to see where they were coming from. "One more, and I'm calling the police."

What with the late freeze that killed all the fruit, and now this, it's not a good year so far.