August Will Be Smokin' Hot. Literally

Image by Анатолий Стафичук from Pixabay

“Summer has always been good to me, even the bittersweet end, with the slanted yellow light.”
― Paul Monette, Borrowed Time: An AIDS Memoir

Here in southwestern Idaho at the tail end of July, the light is not so much slanted yellow as it is a faded orange. Somewhere between peach and apricot, really, if those fruits were rolled in ash. The sun rises like an overripe mango and sets in a smear the color of cantaloupe flesh.

The Air Quality Index hovers just under 200, solidly in the Unhealthy zone, keeping us mostly indoors for yet another day. Our puppy, oblivious to the hazards of particulate matter and missing her afternoon fetch sessions at the neighborhood dog park, grumbles with boredom.

We ply her with treats and toys, check our HEPA filter, and hunker down. Because August is coming, and fire season looks ready to stretch all through the month.

Smoke has become a regular, unwelcome feature of summers in Boise. There have been a few dry lightning-sparked blazes in the local foothills so far, and there could easily be more. But most of the sulphurous haze this year is coming from eastern Oregon, where multiple wildfires are chewing up hundreds of thousands of acres.

I read today that, in its wisdom, the Trump administration has denied firefighting assistance grants for two of the biggest Oregon conflagrations, the East Evans Creek and Rowe Creek fires. It seems a recent policy change at FEMA means these fires don’t meet the revised standards for a major disaster. So you’re on your own, Oregon.

Tough luck for the over 230 homes in the path of the flames, as well as the roads, bridges, and other infrastructure at risk. Not to mention the landscape and all the creatures that dwell therein.

Meanwhile, prevailing winds blow the smoke west into Idaho. Which means we don’t dare take our outdoor walks, so the dog isn’t the only one who gets bored and cranky.

Maybe Governor Brad Little should impose tariffs on Oregon products, as Trump threatened to do to Canada earlier in July as retribution for our neighbor to the north sending us their “filthy, polluted, and unhealthy air.”

You can’t make this stuff up.

Anyway. It could be worse; we could be in Spain or France. We are grateful that we’re not on fire. So far.

But there are bright spots in the murk! And they’re not all smouldering embers! One happy side effect of being stuck indoors is that I’m getting more work done on the next book in my series.

Another is that I’ve been hearing from readers about Griffin Speaker. The feedback has been confidence-building, as I build out the adventures of Rain and Griff and their challenges in a world where the rules are against them.

A week ago, I received the loveliest handwritten letter from a fifth-grader in Connecticut, who even included a drawing of Griffin Head Peak where some of the story’s action takes place. I was so delighted that I posted this reel on Instagram:

I was also a guest on two of my favorite podcasts!

The first interview, on Crow’s Feet: Life As We Age, was released on July 8. I had a great time chatting with my host and colleague Betsy Allen about what it’s like to be a late-blooming debut author.

Later in the month, I was interviewed by hosts Sam (who describes himself as a “kid who reads a LOT”) and his mom, Dana, for their delightful podcast, Bookwards.

It’s such an engaging show; find it wherever you get your pods or click the link to listen in.

Now that July is nearly in the rearview, here’s what’s coming up in August:

The first Friday of the month, I’m heading to southern CA to visit several groups of friends-of-long-standing, as well as for two book events. If you’re in any of the SoCal zip codes, I’d love for you to join me at either or both!

On Saturday, August 8, I’ll be at Pages, A Bookstore in Manhattan Beach, starting at 4:30 PM, chatting about Griffin Speaker, answering questions, and signing copies.

And on Sunday, August 9, you can find me at Barnes & Noble’s Huntington Beach store in the Bella Terra center starting at noon.

Following that, my husband and I are running away to the Oregon coast to enjoy clean, cooler air, ocean breezes, scenery, hikes, theater, live music, crackling fires contained in hearths, and some quality goof-off time.

When we return, the kids will be back in school and summer will be exhaling its last hot breaths. I’ll be putting some of the final touches on the sequel to Griffin Speaker, due out next spring, while working out the kinks in the next book. And I’ll be planning author visits to schools.

And though it might be premature, by September I’ll be thinking about pumpkins, russet leaves, and sweater weather.

Because fall is coming. And that’s my very favorite time of year.