Ramblings from the Desert

The man who trades freedom for security does not deserve nor will he ever receive either. ~Benjamin Franklin

My Photo
Name:
Location: New Mexico

Author of the urban fantasy novel, The Music of Chaos, and the paranormal romance, The Canvas Thief.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Cough, Cough

Last night we had a sandstorm that was probably only bettered by the kind seen in Iraq.
The sky turned a murky shade of brown and the mountains disappeared. Starting at around four in the afternoon, onto seven-thirty, the wind scoured every bit of sand off the land and flung it in the air.

The weatherman, naturally, predicted that the day would be "slightly breezy," illustrating the problem with adverbs. The winds were "slight" only when measured against those on the planet Jupiter.

At one point, even the lawn grass was whirling around in wind-tossed agony. Nikster the Wonder Horse, Arabian Horse of the Desert, etc., etc., spent the time on the phone with the humane society.

"In the wind and sand. Yes. What? Of course I'm breaking up. They left me out here in the middle of a sand hurricane. Help!"

Trees were downed all over Albuquerque. In our community, known for its large cottonwoods, things didn't seem as bad. Aside from an elm that fell making and impromptu bridge across an irrigation ditch, most trees looked mostly intact. The big cottonwood on our property lost a small limb and a few branches, but our new cottonwoods made it through unscathed. We were afraid the wind would snap the skinny "babies." Wind it seems, is the way cottonwoods get pruned.

The winds did do a number on my irises. In fact, they are a better predictor of wind than the weatherman. Every stinking year, every time they get to blooming, we get a storm that knocks them all down. I took a picture before nature laid them low, but I'm at work with no access to it. (If I don't post now, I probably won't post at all today.)

Anyway, after work, I guess I'll be sweeping up the mess left by the wind. Should be a real hoot, since my allergies are also kicking up. Sniffle, cough, sweep, sweep.

***Writing***
Rather obsessed with current WIP, having hit the 80K mark. Characters are chattering away in my head, leaving no room for blog (Internet) time. The first 50 words are the hardest as I wonder how I'll ever write a novel length work. Then, it picks up steam and I wonder how I'll keep it at or under 90K.

Have a nifty Wednesday.
P.K.

 

Graphics and Content Copyright © Patricia Kirby 2005