Tuesday, April 6, 2010

The Color of Dust & Smoke

We're on our third or fourth episode of spring's choking wind. Inside, I wipe down the counter tops, and by the next day a new layer has settled. Star dust. Topsoil from Flagstaff. Bits of lint and cat fur from some hippy's house in southern California. Particulate matter.

The makings of crusty nose snot. Damned desert.
And it makes your lips and tongue sore, like you've licked a cement block or been mixing Quickcrete.

Fire south along the Bosque yesterday. You could really smell it/ made your lungs hurt here on campus, 5 miles away.

It was unseasonably hot until today, when it's chilly again. Having walked out without a coat, I'm shivering.

*Have not photographed them, but G's miniature wax-yellow daffies under the Japanese scholar tree came up & bloomed last week. And the pale yellow daffodils from the mix of bulbs we planted in the fall came up: fully 2 weeks later than the traditional yellows. Maybe even 3... it's all a bit of a blur.

Thursday, April 1, 2010


I know I said, several weeks ago, that the world looked BROWN until you got down, got close, nudged in the leaves, thought about composing character shots with your digital macro.

Yesterday afternoon, in the middle of a very windy, gritty afternoon (unseasonably hot)--I realized the overall color palette had shifted. All the fruit trees are flowering madly. And the leaves on the cottonwoods and elms and ash (not to mention all their bushy spring shrub friends like the lilacs) have unfurled. To the naked eye, anywhere you look, there's a verdant shimmer.

The temperature continues to bounce like an insane bungee jumper. Spring the cruelest... And the wind has commenced its ill-tempered cleaning rituals: the annual vernal scouring of every surface.