Where Are We, Again?

I am sure I must be mistaken. This sunny, hot stretch of weather cannot be in the Alaska I have known for almost four years. Not this place where I have been forced, under direction from the Anchorage Daily News' garden guru, to actually use my sprinkler for something other than a door stop.

Day Whatever of no measurable rain, and Alaska is on fire. Literally. On. Fire. There remain 62 active forest fires burning right now in the state, and due to a sluggish jet stream, most of the smoke has descended upon our little wilderness haven.

Smoke has been so thick that it has been declared "Unhealthy". The usual view of the green, lush Chugach mountains is obscured by interesting layers of smoke, and (this is the fun part)we have ash. Go figure, ash from a volcano in March, ash from a fire in July. We can't win.

The air smells like an overburned campfire and stings the eyes, including Dog's, whose tears have nothing to do with my refusal to give him the leftover pork chops.

Our photo montage of the week includes a BLM Fire helicopter swooping down upon the mommies and kids gathered at our local swimming hole to suck up water for a fire mere blocks away. Also shown is the view from our deck this afternoon, when Bear and I decided to make a break for it and go downtown (where the smoke is decidedly thinner) and visit our children's museum and have lunch at the Glacier Brewhouse. Sacrifices we make in the name of safety...