Smoky skies are the new norm for August. Thunderstorms have been rolling through too, compounding the surreal color cast with a muggy and palpable sky. Sometimes it smells like sweet pipe smoke. The rest of the time it's not discernible to my nose. Burning sage and bitterbrush to the south and I suppose some cheatgrass as well. Lodgepole pines are getting cremated to the north. A visual amalgamation of sorts: muted, Impressionistic, cold-blue in August, and teary-eyed.