Everything is so yellow.

The sky is yellow, like you’re wearing lightly yellow-tinted sunglasses, here, the sun is a red disk, and the air is hot, in the upper nineties, unusual temperature for September in this area. There is yet another enormous wildfire here in the pacific NW, this one about 40 miles from me on the Columbia Gorge, and it’s snowing ashes here. They’re much the texture and size of cigarette ashes tapped into the wind. You can feel them in your lungs and must clean them from the windshield before driving. About every fifth person on the street is wearing one of those white ten-a-penny face masks. I see them schooling their children on wearing them, keeping them on, during this. One wildfire is tamped down, another flares up, and they’re all big, thanks to the ubiquity of dryness in the countryside. I wonder if the local libertarians understand that only government infrastructure, subsidies, emergency funding, stands between us and our houses burning up? Is this what it’s like? Climate change accelerating? We were warned that big, out of control fires would be more frequent. Our glib dystopian writing seems quaint now, blandly real. The future has caught up with us, in our old age, as time seems to go faster, and it’s laughing, mockingly–the future is always young.

Looking out my office window, right now, everything is so disturbingly…yellow.

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