It was hardly seasonal weather today, although the pops of rockets going off all around (much to the cats' dislike) testifies to the fact that it's no longer raining. But the rain will have made the ground more or less safe, for once, for fireworks to land on, and (despite the cold) it was a beautiful day, with thunderstorms racing up from the southwest and the southeast. This was the view from the back door around 4 p.m., with a bright golden stripe of sky, and what the Navajo call masculine rain - walking rain - moving rapidly across from the Cerrillos Hills and blotting out the Sandias. I'd much rather have this rough weather than blazing sun: the light changes every minute, and one's made very much aware of one's own smallness.
It wasn't a day for eating outside, however: the buffalo burgers (coated in oregano and ancho and chipotle) were cooked inside: ditto the yellow and white corn and the potato salad. I've grown out of feeling slightly nationalistically awkward about Independence Day a long while back.
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