Life is hard in the desert. Spikes cover all the vegetation, rain rarely falls, and the wind – constant and relentless – blows for days and days.
The wind buffets and rocks the RV, making her feel more like a sailboat than a land vehicle. The gusts reaching speeds over 65 miles an hour. The dried brown grass and shrubs bend to the northeast from the force of the moving air. The two hawks, a mated pair, who have soared the skies daily near camp, have gone to ground and the roadrunners – ever present – are nowhere to be seen. I run into town for more water, filling two jerry cans for the next couple days. It would be foolish to drive the RV in winds like these. I hunker down – like the hawks – waiting for Nature’s approval to leave.