It's rare, west of the Cascades, to have smoky summer skies, but massive fires burning in British Columbia have combined with northeast breezes to turn our blue skies a hazy brown.
One of the most singular features of these days has been the appearance of the sun itself: The camera just can't capture the effect; filtering the photo still doesn't do it justice.
The sun rises and sets like a glowing ember in a dying fire, it's unsearchable brilliance dimmed to human view. Smoke has tamed our solar sovereign—domesticated it's magnificence—made it subject to anyone's unshielded eye.
Or has it? Somewhere, beyond the outflow of the Fraser Valley and the spillways of the Cascade Mountains people still shield their eyes at noon. The sun is unchanged; it's what I'm looking THROUGH that's different.
From my place in the solar system I might interpret this sun as a weak monarch, incapable of holding the throne for long. But its might is undiminished by my poor perspective. It is completely unaltered by my inadequate view.
So I'm not judging the sun by what I see; I'm judging it by what I know. When it rides through a sea of blue again, I'll rejoice that it was never deposed.
© Copyright August 2017 by Robert G. Robbins