Even though the morning felt warmer than the evening before, there was that vague hint in the air that changes were coming. By mid morning the winds were beginning to howl, the far horizon began to darken, and now, as I eat lunch and watch the cloud shadows dance across the face of the Cerbat Mountains from my office, there can be little doubt the weatherman got this one right. A winter storm is on the way.
There is just something majestic about storms in the desert. I have survived hurricanes and endured tornado watches, experienced bone numbing blizzards and basted in my own juices under a sweltering sun in the Mississippi River Delta, but nothing instills awe and reverence as do storms in the deserts.
Still, even with all of their violence, I prefer summer storms. As a kid winter and I were never very good friends even though there were opportunities to ice fish, ice skate, sled down snow covered hillsides, snowmobile through the forest, build forts of snow, and have snow ball fights.
The passing of years has only alienated my affections for winter even though I still contemplate an Alaskan adventure when the longing for the independent spirit of the southwest that has now passed becomes difficult to contemplate. Still, the reality is that I have lived in this desert land so long that I often start looking for the long johns if the temperature drops below eighty degrees.
Well, it is shaping to be another interesting weekend. We have a Route 66 photo shoot on Saturday after work. There will be some lively discussion with Stive Rider. Then there is the continuing work on the encyclopedia and the Sunday dinner with my son and his family that is the highlight of the week, and another opportunity for my dearest friend to try out her culinary imagination.
Stay warm, stay dry, and remember, this is the season to dream of road trips yet to come.

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