This morning, I took that same outlook and zoomed in for a closer look. It didn’t help make things any clearer. There are no clouds in the sky. That would be too good as it might mean rain.
Here is another scene (to the right of the first photo) from some time ago when the air was clean in spite of the cloud cover.
The same view but harder to see.
And no wonder we can’t see much. So much smoke in the air from wildfires easily obscures the sun. This photo of the rising sun was taken early this morning. Wildfires burning on the island are less than 100 miles away, and the smoke is drifting into our valley and hanging there.
My eyes are dry, it hurts to blink,
The smoke’s not good to breathe, I think.
My throat is scratchy, as I croak,
My vocal chords are full of smoke.
The Captain calls and asks, “What’s wrong?”
I tell him that the smoke is strong
From fires burning all around,
And ask, when are you homeward bound?
He’ll be home soon, he starts to say,
But then the sat phone cuts away.
We’ll talk again another time,
He doesn’t need to hear me whine.
And when he gets here he will sigh,
For misty isles of Haida Gwaii.
No smoke or drought does plague them there
The constant gales will clear the air.