Here on the bone-dry llano, I struggle to comprehend how the other side of America could be under water. I've seen the pictures of angry sky and ocean, but here the sun just keeps shining like a megaphone in a sky that's got the perpetual blues. If a wind kicks up, the dust dances just to drive the point home.
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| "You there, Dog? It's me, Cat." |
Humans are amazing - we build real airplanes and virtual cats. We are the inventors of both duct tape and twinkies. And here in New Mexico, folks regularly fix ancient farm equipment with only duct tape and twinkies to hand.
In spite of such ingenuity, humans remain powerless in the face of Nature. It rains too much, or it rains too little, but it never rains just right. In Noah's shadow, we remain at the mercy of the elements, praying for rainbows.
So me and Cat are sending dry llano vibes back east. We are wishing like hell that we could do something more useful than that. Till then we cower at the thought of Nature, and our own shadows.
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