WE ARE IN The Age of Dust. It lasts, more or less, two months, April and May. There is also the Age of Rain, the Age of Freeze and the Age of Loveliness.
That last one runs from November until late December. It is the Age of Loveliness because it has stopped raining; it is not freezing, and there is no dust to speak of.
It is neither hot nor cold. Our world is green, and the sky is blue. It is like that little bear’s porridge, just right.
The Age of Dust rivals the Age of Freeze as the worst of the year, but even those two Ages are pretty swell because this mountaintop is a wonderful place to live.
April also brings our wedding anniversary, 14 years now. Of my three marriages, this has been the longest even though I lived with my second wife for 19 years.
We were married just the final 10.
My Mexican child bride and I had known each other just under six months when we wed in the interior courtyard of her sister’s home on the main plaza.
We did not know each other very well, in large part due to the language barrier. My Spanish was still marginal, and her English was nonexistent.
But we took quite a shine to one another, and 14 years later it’s turned out just fine. I’d do it all over again.
Here’s a photo from the evening in question:
It was a low-budget affair. We didn’t even hire a photographer. A friend took pictures that were mostly useless. A professional wouldn’t have that mystery hand in the photo.
There were about 30 guests. There was dancing, pozole and music, part of which was provided by this fellow:
We were married in the Age of Dust, and one day we will be dust, the both of us, likely me first, of course.
But it’s been a spectacular time. If you marry often enough, eventually you get it right. Dust doesn’t matter.