A soft summer breeze wafts by the window (which is open because we don't have air conditioning), bringing with it the....
acrid smell of smoke...
smoke....
and more smoke...
Clouds of white smoke.
Our neighbor to the south has decided to repair what is left of the fence that divides our land and is in the process of clearing the trees and brush on his side.
And he is burning the brush piles.
My mind keeps wanting to jog down memory lane to when they expanded the highway and cleared the land in front of our place and torched huge piles of trees and brush, which burned for days and days.
R had already decided not to hang the clothes out on the line because the humidity has climbed too high and they won't dry well before evening. But I would have stopped him because of the consequences of hanging clothes on a line when there is smoke in the air.
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