This is not the image I’d like to be posting, but for many of us in the northern hemisphere, our memories of Summer 2026 will forever be tinged with the sombre shades of black and accompanied by the acrid smell of wood smoke. It seems right that we don’t forget. A couple of days ago, fire broke out on the outskirts of our village in the foothills of the Italian Apennines. It was no big deal, just a small patch of wasteland, dry vegetation, some dogrose and blackthorn scrub. Given the situation in other parts of the world, I hardly like to mention it. But it makes you think. We were lucky. There was virtually no wind, the fire fighters were notified almost immediately and they managed to put it out before it spread to the adjacent trees, then from there, a small leap to the first houses in the village and some cars parked nearby. As I said, we were lucky. But when I walk past, I can’t ignore that acrid smell and it gives me the shivers. Sometimes our planet as we know it seems such a fragile place.