It's 1:45 in the afternoon, and the sky is pink, and it's raining ashes. There are ashes falling on my house and car and deck.
It's so dry that the wood on the deck has cracked, the nails have separated from the wood, the boards are curling up like old shoes.
Linda and I have bought face masks.
She sits in her dean's office with her blue mask on.
Tomorrow, she is taking another mask in to give to her secretary who has lost the ability to speak because of the smoke and ash in the air.
We have four air purifiers running all the time--and it's not enough.