Smoke Gets in My Eyes

It’s a sign of the times that, rather than check the weather forecast in the morning, I check the air quality index. Last Saturday, the Denver area had the worst air quality on the planet: 192—a combination of smoke from the fires in California and Oregon and Denver’s historically polluted air.

It used to be that the mountains provided relief from the summer heat and pollution on the plains. But with climate change, temperatures at the cabin often are in the 80s, and the smoke from the western fires affects the whole state. In fact, last week,  the air quality index for Estes Park was higher (144) than it was in Denver, possibly because this mountain town sits in a basin where noxious air collects or else because the jet stream is moving the pollution in unexpected directions.

At the cabin, I could barely perceive the outline of Mount Meeker (left), just a few miles to the west, and the whole valley below was sunk in a white haze. Even the birds have seemingly fled. The swallows that were here the previous week, raising a new brood in the birdhouse by the garage, are gone. I miss their chirring sounds as they darted through the air catching bugs.  My neighbor who puts out feeders for the hummingbirds has noticed fewer of these tiny flashy birds in the past week. Even the birds that are still here—like the Steller’s jays—are quieter and less raucous. Does the smoke-filled air make it harder for them to breathe and thus vocalize?

Yet amazingly, amid all this gloom, the wildflowers are still going strong. The lupine have died out, but the purple asters, yellow sulfur flowers, white yarrow, yellow and red blanketflower, and mauve fireweed are still blooming, joined by the goldenrod.

I know I shouldn’t go out into this polluted air, but I can’t help myself. In only a few weeks, most of the flowers will dry up for the winter, and in another month the aspen will start changing color and dropping their leaves.

But today the creeks are still running, and the the wind is softly rushing through the aspens. The chipmunks and golden-mantled ground squirrels are still running through the grasses and flowers, as if there’s no time to lose. I watch from the porch as one ground squirrel (left) makes repeated trips under the cabin to steal the pink insulation and stuff it into its underground nest where it will make for a cozy and warm winter retreat.

Yet walking under these unnatural skies, I have to resist the urge to close my heart to this harbinger of our future under climate change. A part of me wants to huddle inside the cabin, close the curtains, distract myself with the Internet or a good book. But shutting out the world feels like death, like I’m cutting myself off from the source of life. Instead, I choose to cast my fate with the birds, the wildflowers, the pines and aspens, the chipmunks and the bear that wandered through the neighborhood that morning. Whatever happens to them happens to all of us.

Comments

[Shoney]

Thank you for this perspective. Your piece is a testament to how much we can’t hide from climate change. I hope you can limit breathing in the harmful air as the long term health effects are dire.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Thanks, Shoney. Luckily, the air has been a bit better (under 100) the past few days.

[Carol Christenson]

Thanks for this story Kathy. I have been thinking about how events these days just keep illuminating how much we are all connected. A large fire in CA impacts people 1000+ miles away...I am just hoping that more people are beginning to grasp the realities that we face.
Take good care.

[Sally Hanson]

Wish we had been looking seriously 40years ago. It is so upsetting with the state of the climate and with seeing how little we can probably do at this point and with the divided opinions we all have, how do we put it all aside and do what needs to be done❓

[Kathy Kaiser]

Thanks, Carol. It is amazing how everything is so inter-related, which is both good and bad.

[Kathy Kaiser]

Sally, I agree. We knew 40 years ago this was coming and still today we're not willing to commit to doing the difficult things (like stop oil and gas drilling). It's frustrating and disheartening.