Night has fallen on the desert

The Voice of the Desert.

Night has fallen on the desert, and this is the time of year when people are disappointed in me,

because I'm not going fast enough for their taste.

Friends, is so hot in the Mojave this time of year that merely getting through the day is a victory of sorts.

The radio studio is too hot.

Despite the miracle of air conditioning, taking the temperature down, 30 degrees or so,

because of course the AC has to be shut off.

Gotta shut it off for the radio work.

Otherwise, that maddening

hum will be in the

background.

Now, the mail

order office, which is

the other end of the studio,

is also very unpleasant and not just because laborious work must be done there.

The dry hellish air reduces the natural tears, and then it becomes the unpleasant form of email tears, which are blood.

The mere crust of blood, like on a dead animal you come across on the trail.

The hotter it gets, the more I like to think about trees.

Tall, shady cottonwoods, dense green leaves leaves and well i'm stretched out along the river just enough breeze

to keep the flies off a shady glen that's a nice phrase, isn't it?

Glenn is Gaelic for a green valley of the kind you find in Ireland or Scotland or the Isle of Man.

...