We’ve reached the time in summer when we play a game I don’t like much.

The “where’s that smoke coming from” game.

The haze first brings grayish skies, muddying our views of the spectacular mountain vistas.

Then it completely obliterates them, enshrouding them as if they didn’t exist at all.

Most of the time, thank goodness, there’s no distinct plume on the horizon. The creep of the haze is from far away, and sure enough, satellite images confirm our suspicions – these fingers of smo...