12/22/20 Desert Morning

The desert wind rolls and moves and yet remains constant. The morning air is cold and the blues muted and mystical. As the sun emerges from behind the mountains the colors become bright and whitewashed. The sun heats up my skin and I strip my protective layers one by one: the hat, the scarf, the jacket, the sweater, and finally the shoes. To feel the earth on the bare skin is essential in really feeling the soul of a place. I went out to record the wind, but will have to make a trek out farther from the campsite if I really want to capture the fullness of tone and character. It's the tone of the movement across the flats and through the brittle and dried low brush. The mountains reverberate the sound and I can hear it move from one direction to another. As I move toward the sound, it disappears from the direction I am moving to and appears behind me. So I turn and move toward the sound in the other direction and again, it disappears and sounds as if it's from a new direction. What tricks the wind is playing on me! Or, is it my own limited perception that grasps onto a sound in one direction only, never able to truly perceive how the wind is, at all times, all around me?