It's Saturday. The wind is howling and the air is full of sand and bits of bark and leaves. Other debris is caught up in it too, plastic bags that zip around and change directions in the chaos, crows struggling for forward motion and brightly colored bits of paper. Some of it lands in the pool. Occasionally there's a pretty good thud when a limb bangs against the roof. There's a crash as the recycling bin falls and spills its bottles. Everything is seen through a violent confetti.
I've got an edge that comes with not enough sleep. If you've spent a night with a congested child, you know that they wake up panicked because they can't breathe through their noses. And you feel powerless because it's a virus and all you can do is treat the symptoms and offer comfort. And steam. A hot shower or sitting in the steamy bathroom helps him get the air he needs.
Wow. I haven't seen wind like this in awhile. It just ripped a board off our fence and the bottom of the pool is black with dirt and leaves. There's someone else's rug on the deck and now it's loud, loud, loud. I decided to peek out the front door. There are several really large limbs - one too big to be moved without cutting, and the carport shade is nearly ripped away. Funny, the temperature is spring-like. Welcome to the desert.
Aubrey just sent me a beautiful, serene photo of snow. It's as opposite as opposite can be.
Orion and I sit inside, cozy and quiet so he gets enough air. We watch the maelstrom outside, shadows chasing after the clouds so it's dark and light in turn. Not enough air for him, too much outside.
This is our Saturday, so far.