It's a strange feeling to know that your entire country is in the throes of an extraordinary wildfire burn in every province and territory but one. This year, this season, we're being told, will be known as one of the most severe yet for wildfires. People living in approximate proximity to fires burning out of control are informed that they should be prepared to leave their homes at scant notice.

Extremely dry conditions, high winds have made the situation what it is; the heat becomes combustible given the right conditions and that appears to be what is happening just about everywhere. A wildfire about 200 km from Ottawa, in Madawaska, is burning out of control. It, and other fires including those in west Quebec, have cast a virtual pall over the atmosphere. 

Light is refracted differently through the haze the fires have created. Dusk is earlier and darker, and dawn's early light has an orange-pinkish hue. Makes me think of our own urban forest. In years past we've seen teens trying to set fires in the ravine. We once had to call the fire department because a young man was trying to set a fire in dry conditions. Irving scrambled across the creek up a hill to confront the fellow, who had been drinking, ordering him to stop.

It took no time for fire crews to arrive and they put the fire out, while police took the young man into custody overnight. We heard later from one of our ravine-hiking friends, a young fireman himself, that the man had been distraught, his girlfriend had broken up with him. He had tried to make a little 'camp' for himself in the forest interior, where Irving confronted him.

Recalling that event, well over a decade ago, my mind churned a potential catastrophe, that someone succeeded in setting a fire and with the dry conditions, heat and wind now prevailing, it would take no time for the fire to wild itself, though fire crews would be alert and prepared to battle it. I can empathize with people being forced to leave their homes, their lives turned upside down. It's quite dreadful.

As for us, we're longing for rain. It would help. When we headed out to the ravine earlier today, the odour of burning wood engulfed us. Actually, it has permeated the house interior through open windows. Particulate matter from the smoke has joined pollen now circulating everywhere; it has piled up everywhere, crept into crevices, reminding us that both are the results of seasonal events.

While we were out in the forest thunder rumbled nearby, and it became even darker. The sound of the wind rushing through the forest canopy was dense and confusing. At some times it sounded like air traffic, at others like heavy rain pattering on the foliage. We were certain rain was forthcoming, but in fact the storm moved off elsewhere and we had no rain.

Which gave me ample reason to spend some time outside in the garden after we returned from our grocery shopping, to water the garden pots and urns. Jackie and Jillie are interested in poking about the front gardens,but they soon get bored and prefer being in the house, so they're relieved when we're finally ready to go back into the house. They're not given to being out-of-doors, other than when they're in the forest with us.

When we left them after our hike through the forest, to do the grocery shopping, it seemed even darker, the haze clearly more dense. A few light drops of rain fell, but nothing came of it. There's an almost eerie feeling about the quality of the light, the overwhelming presence of a penetrating odour that keeps reminding you that huge acreages of forest are burning. While we were at the supermarket I succumbed to the allure of small potted roses already in bloom and bought one with tiny yellow blooms. A comfort-purchase, if you will.  

Once we returned home and Irving agreed that tortilla wraps filled with black beans, vegetables and cheese would do fine for dinner, we took ourselves out to the garden. It has a calming effect. The sight of the flowering plants, the wide array of form and colour is pure enchantment. It might be true of us that we have developed a keen sense of aesthetic. From his very earliest years, Irving has always been curious about everything, and he has drawn me in to his spheres of interest over the years in a transmission of appreciative sharing.

Heaven knows, we've had enough years together to share interests, some of which we shared even before we knew one another. Both of us have always been nature-oriented, drawn to art, and avid readers. When we were in our early teens walking to a park or visiting a library was as important to our sense of natural values as attending a teen dance.