On Saturday, a Spring storm rolled in. I watched from my place beside the nurses' desk as the wind tossed tree branches from side to side. I know that the winds here don't compare to those that rake the midwest, but to me, it was an impressively ominous sight. Just before my shift ended, rain appeared, which quickly turned to snow. Though I was a little nervous to drive him in a blizzard, the storm served only to lift my spirits.
As it happened, I had only to fight my way through the spray of white for ten minutes or so, after getting on the freeway. As quickly as it had appeared, the snow was gone and rather than driving under an overcast sky, I found myself in direct, unimpeded sunlight. In fact, it was so bright and insistent, that the roads began to steam. It was one of those moments in which I wished very much for a camera, two free hands, and the expertise necessary to capture the scene.
At first, they were just ghostly wisps, drifting across the ground, but the vapor began to rise rapidly off of the asphalt, twisting with the moving air. It became so thick that, at times, I couldn't see any more than a hundred feet into the fog. If I looked from side to side, though, I could see perfectly the houses and mesas in either direction for miles. Only the blacktop interstates were misty white. It was like driving along a cloud, a tunnel of sun-warmed storm.
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