It was a lot of wind for us, really, the day the wind came up. There were no grand meteorological explanations. No perfect storms. Just wind, blasting from the southeast, pushing over coolers on tables with eggs for sale. Slamming doors left ajar.

Buddhists believe the world will end in a sequence of seven suns, each causing some specific, systematic failure of a vital life function on Earth. The seventh will consume everything. The ground beneath our feet will burn beyond ashes.

There will be no perfect storms when the sun expands to consume us. There will be no grand explanations as a fairly average star does what fairly average stars do when their fuel is expended. But it will be a lot of heat for us, really.