For years I have been ashamed. My head has hung low as I've watched what has become of my country.
For decades, I have grumbled my way to the voting booth, hoping against hope that this time it might count for something.
I am afraid to hope even now — afraid that hope might jinx it all. But my head is raised. My shame has diminished a bit.
Imagine what the world is thinking.
The winds of change are blowing.
11:04:24 PM permalink:  feedback: comments: 
What is going on? Trudy said.
What is with this wind?
For days now, it has been blowing out of the east. A hot, dry wind that shakes the leaves, kicks up dust, and pushes whitecaps up the river.
The grass is withering. The tomatoes are leaning. The salvia are drooping. The Elfin Thyme is suffering. And still the wind blows.
West of here, a day's drive away, there are great windmills standing on flat-topped mesas. They tower over the land and turn their white blades into the wind. Oh, how they must be spinning now.
10:30:06 PM permalink:  feedback: comments: