The Secret life of prairie island moles

On my personal 5-point smoke scale, today ranks as a 4.5, meaning Shaw Butte is mostly obscured. Alternatively, that same vista to the west can be a stunner.   

Yes, we've smothered in a dirty shroud of wildfire smoke since mid-June. Heat, too, has bored in with unrelenting vengeance. And grasshoppers, swarming in clouds ahead of each plodding step we take, have added to our gloom. Indeed, life has shrunk to a monotonous routine.

• 4:30 AM: Check clock. Swim through drowsiness. Sit up, flex stiff ankles, lump out of bed. Open all doors. Turn on bathroom fan to suck smidgens of night cool into house.
• Return to bed. Maintain consciousness sufficient to respond to mosquito’s whine: slap, pull sheet over head.
• 6:00 AM: Rouse from stupor; begin morning routine. Start coffee. Check temperatures; indoor—72 degrees; outdoor—65 degrees.
• Choreograph house shut down: As watermelon sun emerges from behind pine tree, shut one bedroom door, close windows, lower and shut blinds in that room. Repeat with 2nd bedroom door and windows + poop deck door as sun’s position changes & temperature climbs.
• When outdoor temperature 3 degrees shy of indoor temperature (thermometer slow to register change), close all windows, lower and close blinds in sun room windows.
• Before leaving house, put fresh-brew in thermos, shut off coffee maker, dispose of grounds to minimize sources of heat.   
• In between shut-down routine, do other chores: pitch hay to lambs, haul water to bucks, replenish grain in tack room barrels, move wheel line, feed dogs, pick garden produce. 
• 10:00 AM: Lower and close blinds on SW-facing kitchen windows.
• 1:00 PM: Lower and close blinds on NW-facing kitchen windows
• 2:00 PM: Emerge from darkened burrow. Squint in glare, assess smoke; we’ve been 4––5 on my scale almost daily since late June. (Scale: 5 = Shaw Butte to the west is mostly obscured; 4 = Water tank on ridge to north is barely discernible, 3 = Ashuelot Bench further north is lost in the haze, 2 = Smoke visible on horizon, 1 = Air is fresh, surely Monsoon rains or snowfall have arrived.) Cruise out on 4-wheeler to fill ewe water troughs & get mail. Helmet w/face shield advised to protect against grasshoppers flying like bullets. Back home, remove hoppers from inside shirt.
• 3–6:00 PM: Read, drink (water or alcohol), text, email, plan dinner—salads and sandwiches generate no heat.
• 6:30 PM Emerge from darkened burrow, do evening chores.
• 8:30 PM Marvel at sunset—eerily red. Enjoy cold meal with YouTube rerun of PBS Newshour.
• Later: Choreograph house opening: As outdoor blast furnace dies & balances oppressive indoor conditions, synchronize blind and window opening.           
• Sponge off, throw bed covers back, revel in momentarily cool sheets, sink into naked slumber.

Surely this is analogous to life as a mole. Despite such drudge & gloom, we are thankful for much: irrigation water, green pastures where water spread and sprinkled, hay in stackyard, 2nd crop sanfoin ready to cut, good books, tomatoes ripening like gangbusters, corn coming on, lambs ready to sell, swallows vacuuming skeeters, hopper-fat larks trilling songs of juicy joy.