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Let’s all go wash our cars today (the white man’s rain dance) so we can keep this beast at bay. Here’s the map of the fire line  – the arrow points to my house.

I just discovered this great community of bloggers/photographers called The Daily Post. It’s challenging me to write every day. Sister Rose Delores would be proud of this site. She always said, You want to be a writer, write. Every day. You want to be an artist? Draw. Every day. You want to be a slacker? Slack. Every day. Okay, I made up that last one. But you get her point. Practice, practice, practice.

So here goes. The challenge was simply one word. Sky.

People often ask me why I left the beauty of the Pacific Northwest for the high desert of New Mexico. It’s simple. I need sky. Lots of head room so I can think.

In Portland, Oregon there is very little sky. Mostly trees and drizzle. It doesn’t rain as much as people think in Portland, it’s chronically cloudy. A weird layer of grey that will hang around for days, not even giving you a peak at the sky. It’s mean. But don’t I miss the green? That’s always the second question. If you want that much green you have to have that much gloom. No, I do not miss the green. I’m quite fond of desert brown.

There are 300 days of sunshine a year in New Mexico (according to the brochure). But this year that sun has been shining with a vengeance and over delivering and has partnered with the Las Conchas Fire to give me more sky.

Be careful what you wish for.

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July 2011