On Thursday, it rained. It rained while the sun baked the rocks. It rained from clouds too bright to look at.
While rain splashed down in the hot sunshine, Aubrey and I stood in the kitchen, watching it sparkle on the pool, when the windows began to shake, then the floor.
"Earthquake," I said, not whisking my kids to the safe spot, but freezing, staring at Aubrey while she stared back at me.
"What WAS that???" called Orion from the den.
"Earthquake," we said in unison, "only a little one." ( A large one, far away, would've lasted longer.)
“What a waste”, said Aubrey. “I'm soooooo disappointed! Why couldn’t this have happened on 6-6-06? Believers all over panicking in their shoes…running naked into the streets.... Damn. That would've been great."
Yesterday Orion and I swam in the evening. Despite care, we are both developing deep tans and greenish hair. No sunscreen stays on for long in water, though I can buy products to get rid of swim blonde (otherwise known as lime green.)
I squint in the bright white light and remember well my winter post Claws so arrogant as to garner many comments, even one from the great panjandrum Himself.
We bask like Gods…
The ‘cowering like rats’ season is upon us. Nearly every time I go outside-- now impossible without shoes or mats to walk on--I enter some science-fiction planetary disaster story. On Tuesday, Pete and I measured for the canopy we’re building over the pool. The canopy I mused about last summer. The canopy I thought would be nice but that now I know is necessary.
Bright Light is loud in my head. Now is the test. How well can I recall standing in silent snowy woods, when the sun burns even the part in my hair?
The sun is our star, and our life source. The Desert, well, is what it is.
But we will build shades and drink water and make art that feels like crisp, cool air. In my heart of hearts, I am Winter Folk.