The sun just rose over a ring of haze that circles the horizon. Fires certainly, even though I don’t smell smoke. Last night we drove home from Great Falls without seeing a single star; the familiar rendered unfamiliar without illumination. We’d eaten dinner with our Great Falls family out in Vaughn on the farm. They lost all their barns and out buildings to fire this year; every bit of machinery and family heirlooms gone. Fire is a true western outlaw.