Hot August Nights—and Smoky August Days
It hasn’t been especially lovely here at Winterpast this week.
The sky overhead is a strange bluish gray, and wildfires are burning in nearly every direction. Smoke and temperatures above one hundred degrees are not the best companions. The beautiful mountains surrounding us are completely hidden behind the haze.
Yesterday, we took a drive to the little town east of us. The smoke was so thick that it felt as though fog had swallowed the entire high desert whole.
Except it wasn’t fog.
HHH and I have to laugh at the news when New York City is blanketed in smoke from Canadian wildfires. You would think their little world is crumbling. It’s just a part of life out here in the wild, wild west. Lightning strikes come in the summer, bringing with them fire. Add a side of crazy arsonists, and it’s the perfect storm. City folk would never last out here. Period.
Fires surround us in every direction. It’s just that time of year. August in northwestern Nevada. While the gardens droop, the mountains vanish, and the air conditioner works overtime, something much more exciting is happening in the Biggest Little City in the World.
Hot August Nights is revving up. The Pastor and Mr. Lovebird can think of little else these days. Engines, chrome, paint, wheels, horsepower, and more than six thousand entries—every kind of car imaginable are rolling through Reno.
There are polished classics, bright convertibles, muscle cars, hot rods, and vehicles that have probably received more tender loving care than most living rooms.
I must admit, I am not a car girl. I can appreciate a shiny automobile. I can smile politely when someone explains what is beneath the hood. I can even admire a beautiful paint job. But after approximately seven minutes, I am ready to go home and check the roses. Especially when it’s hot AND smoky. Given the choice between a roaring engine and the quiet trickle of a garden fountain, I will choose the fountain every time.
Still, Hot August Nights is part of summer life here. The cars arrive. The men get excited. The streets fill. Old songs play. Everyone suddenly remembers the first car they owned—or the one they wish they had never sold.
So, if you can bear the smoke and the heat, head into town and enjoy the cars. Admire the chrome. Listen to the engines. Wave to the happy drivers. And if the smoky air is simply too much, stay home. Filtered air conditioning is a wonderful alternative.
I’ll be here at Winterpast, indoors near the cool air, waiting for Oliver and Tanner to return. Until then, have a great day!
