Lazy Hazy Crazy

Over the last few days, I’ve noticed a haze hanging in the air, especially on my morning ride to work. It’s remarkably thick. Yesterday morning, as I squinted from the Jeff Davis overpass at the shrouded skyscrapers beyond the Superdome, I said to myself, “Hazy enough for you?” But I thought it was just regular summer haze.

Wrong. The morning paper says it’s smoke from wildfires in Alaska and Canada and the western states:

Some of the smoke over New Orleans traveled more than 4,500 miles from fires burning to the north of Fairbanks, Alaska, a journey that would take at least 70 hours by car.

I think that’s just plain weird.

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