The wind has quit moaning through the windows. The rig has quit shaking. The sun came up through a pale amber haze.
Looking straight up I see blue sky. Drop my eyes and Look across the desert... the mountains are lost in a dusty haze. It's going to take a while for that to settle.
The scent of dust hangs heavy in the air, and a blanket of fine, flour like, gritty, dust coats everything. You can feel it when you walk across the floor.
I'm not sure which is worse, a blizzard or a desert wind storm.
Time for a few days of spring cleaning and repacking maybe. There's plenty of work to be done on the new book. Ride my scooter. Walk across the open land... Just breathe while the dust settles... weigh our options...
... and let the world stew in its own juice... without me.
Born badly out of season, into a world I seldom fit... I'm far better off, out in Far Country.
With My Eyes on the Horizon