A Sailor Visits New Mexico
That looks a wee bit like a palm tree, doesn't it? But, no, these are yuccas, the state flower of New Mexico, two particularly towering ones.
I went walking about here in my hometown and had quite forgotten the feel of that dry, crisp wind, all sparkly and tingly like Champagne. I ponder whether this dry breeze is sturdy enough to fill a sail but that seems too foreign to imagine. I believe the wind agrees. It will be long spent before it reaches any sea.
The unfettered sun, crackles warm on my skin. I reach my hand out over a green lawn to feel the cool moisture rising off the grass, the sun and wind gobbling it up before it rises any higher.
Heavy clouds on the horizon march toward us carrying water from who knows where. It should be no surprise that the clouds dump it all at once after carrying it so far.
The splashes of green are vibrant, a moving contrast to brown on brown. Super-green.
I'll be back to the palm trees and blue-on-blue soon enough, but not before my senses replay a childhood whiled away outdoors under a bare naked sun, cooled by a sparkling wind.
That looks a wee bit like a palm tree, doesn't it? But, no, these are yuccas, the state flower of New Mexico, two particularly towering ones.
I went walking about here in my hometown and had quite forgotten the feel of that dry, crisp wind, all sparkly and tingly like Champagne. I ponder whether this dry breeze is sturdy enough to fill a sail but that seems too foreign to imagine. I believe the wind agrees. It will be long spent before it reaches any sea.
The unfettered sun, crackles warm on my skin. I reach my hand out over a green lawn to feel the cool moisture rising off the grass, the sun and wind gobbling it up before it rises any higher.
Heavy clouds on the horizon march toward us carrying water from who knows where. It should be no surprise that the clouds dump it all at once after carrying it so far.
The splashes of green are vibrant, a moving contrast to brown on brown. Super-green.
I'll be back to the palm trees and blue-on-blue soon enough, but not before my senses replay a childhood whiled away outdoors under a bare naked sun, cooled by a sparkling wind.
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