Capillary Action

Capillary Action

It is pouring outside. This is the usual weather >50% of the time since we arrived in the desert. Personally I like it. All the usual desert ambiance of unusually long vistas and low allergens but with the abnormal flowers blooming, the fine sand caked to the ground instead of the atmosphere. It keeps the desert dweller tending to the unusual categories; home dwelling and also seeing how much he can get away with outside before being walloped by the impeding hail-yer-thunderstorm.


Bobbles of round pellets shot down from the sky frozen onto the above freezing ground. A desert warzone of hot and cold that smells like your kindergarden cubby. Life bringing in that sort of way. In others it dominates with luminosity that dwells deep in the heart of keeping oneself unforgivably surrendered to nature. Not mother nature, but human that keeps one running and hiding from the elements. Yet everything is so out of place in the desert so one feels the need to follow the heart rather than the nature of the rather un-normal source. So the heart keeps us going, and I find myself peeing again from the back door of the camper, rain or hail falling on my head. Two feet away is the toilet with running water, warmth and dryness. Yet that feels so wrong. Flushing into my tank would mean I am literally driving with my shit everywhere I go. I have enough unwanted items, to add to them sounds disregarding.


Tomorrow the weather master says light will come as it always does. It will be warmer than today and less a chance of rain. Whether this is right I do not know. Connecting with the follicles on my skin I sense dry weather is coming and the rock will beam heat and unforgiving capillary action as I toss a hand to shake the red stone. Life is a dwelling of extremeness, understood only by extremities all-too-often. A short smile evoked by the rain. Here in the desert.IMG_0831

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