This morning had a slight chill. The desert took a break. I hear we’re moving into the cold, rainy season. These next two or three weeks are “when it’s nice,” so I’m living it up and spending as much time outside as I can.
Working as a reporter, I can grab my camera and just take to the streets for an hour or so at a time, on the auspices of…well, reporting. It’s a good break from the emails and meetings that my unit has me busy with on a normal day.
The winds are also picking up. And while that brings a reprieve from the heat, it also stirs up a thick halo of dust that settles along the bottom of the afternoon skies, forcing the sun to wheeze through pallid, bone-white sunsets.
The dust also makes everyone cough, which leaves throats a bit raw. With all the trash burning and normal crap in the air, I wonder just how much of the soreness is from the dust and not some toxic pollutants.
Evening usually falls across the camp while I’m in my office, processing photos or typing news releases.
Tonight was poetry night at some building across camp. Although I was off before the thing started, I wasn’t able to find out exactly where “Building 638” was before things got too dark.
The days are going faster now. Poof, it’s already been another week. Crazy, right? Pretty soon it’ll be Christmas and then I’ll be 85 with four great-grandchildren. Zim-zam-zoom.