IF YOU STROLL across our yard this month it’s like stepping through a lawn of dead, crunchy locusts.
We keep the large window in the living room shut to keep the dust out. The equally large one in the dining room, however, is opened because you need some fresh air.
All our springtimes are like this, the polar opposite of our soggy, green, slippery summers.
Yesterday about noon, I sat myself down on the Jesus Patio with the intention of reading, but I didn’t read anything. The Kindle just sat on the glass-top table as I stared around.
I had the Canon, so I photographed the clay head that sits beside the cactus. He’s not a man to be messed with.
Later we lunched at Tiendita Verde, and then we headed downtown, the two of us in separate cars, leaving a larger carbon footprint. It can’t be helped.
We ran into Jaime there. He’s 11, and the son of our nephew who died recently of cancer at 32. My child bride and her sister have taken him under their wings of late.
Jaime is a remarkably good kid. I like him.