it’s wednesday sometime in mid september, and oregon has been under smoky, hazardous air for long enough that i don’t remember exactly when we taped up the fireplace and windows or when i started wearing an N95 inside. in fact it’s worth documenting that, without checking, it’s hard to be certain of much of anything. the amount of light coming from outside is consistent with mid-december overcast days, if it weren’t for the eerie ocre tint. some of my indoor plants have started to discolor, and i haven’t checked the garden to see how its fairing, though even if it survives, i’m reluctant to trust its fruit. my fingers have that morning-after smell of staying out late at bars when you could still go to bars and you could still smoke indoors. the “before” times.

i’ve been doing some witchy things, like simmering pots of salt water with sprigs of herbs in them. over the past week i’ve learned the mint gets swampy and brown quick, and isn’t as powerful as rosemary, which does (and smells!) incredibly well over a low heat. i’ve brought big pots of brew, steaming, into the room we plan on occupying for a while to improve the quality of the air—or at least, our perception of it.

earlier, when the state had 43 active fires and a “once in a generation wind event,” i felt panic rushing in. i calmed myself by packing for hypothetical evacuation, like i’ve done dozens of time to avoid every storm that threatened my home state(s). but a windstorm at the end of of an incredibly dry summer with so many active fires meant the forecasts were more of a buckle-up-or-pray kind of thing. wildfires are not hurricanes, and what i wanted was data: a trajectory, a forecast. how much time did we have? which direction was it coming, and how soon? one county over, clackamas hovered between readiness stages 1, 2, 3. power lines were pre-emptively cut. most folks in our county waited. folks elsewhere evacuated. some lost everything. how can you even complain about the air quality inside when your house is still standing?

someone on twitter called it double quarantine: we’ve gotten used to “staying home” and wearing masks, but for almost all of the west coast as it’s burning, we’re stuck indoors, possibly even limited to the specific room that has better or controllable air. now portland’s experiencing a “smoke inversion,” and the AQI has consistently been hazardous (+300); i screencaped a 475 reading (#1 in the world) for posterity. it’s not so much mad max as it is the road.

mostly, we feel hungover with a dash of mild food poisoning, every day all day. parents are setting up their kids for their first week back at school remotely while working remotely. you can’t explain to your weirdo doggo that there will be no w-a-l-k-s for a while. the trash and recycle hasn’t been able to be picked up for weeks, which adds a little texture to the chaos.

yesterday we took a drive to the coast and back, just for a change of scenery. it was mid-day and felt like winter portland 4pm (or finland 1pm), but there was a reflection of a fuchsia-red light source on the dark cars (think, like, a flood light)—it took me a while to realize that it was coming from the sun. two hours out of portland there was a thunderstorm over the pacific ocean, but over the forest you could still see the pockets of fog and smoke. a friend-of-a-friend who drove to gtfo said the smoke didn’t clear until she made it into idaho.

praying (?) for rain,

rhienna

p.s. send: photos of something pleasing from your recent camera roll (food? animals? something you saw on a walk? cute manicure? cute selfie???)? bonus points if it’s halloween related.