Letter From The Desert: Seasons
The desert is still searing during the day. As I write this, a half hour after sunset with the sky just now going truly dark, the air temperature is just below 90°. Roadrunners stalk unwary lizards under the noon sun. Every weekend, when I set the hose to slow-trickle at the base of the trees around the house, rabbits and quail come to drink from the po…
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