Smoke is quite invasive. It is everywhere. In my eyes, my nose, my throat, my clothes, my sheets. I feel like I am in a giant campfire. The helicopters continue to buzz us, but at least Mr. Vixen is over his infatuation with them so I don’t have to run out into the yard every fifteen minutes and take pictures. The rain didn’t last long and this morning the smoke returned. Not as bad, but I am very tired of the smell. Here is the yard this morning.