In Louisiana, it rains a lot.  In El Norte, not much. In fact, from November to February, there was one evening shower at my house.

But one evening, I was caught in a storm.

As I was getting ready to close the kitchen for the night, I realized that I didn’t have enough coffee for the morning. So I set out for the supermarket.

AlSuper is about three blocks away. I can walk there in less than five minutes.

When I went out of the house, I saw a little lightning. By the time I was in the parking lot of the store, the wind was throwing up a little dirt.

When I came out five minutes later, there was a haze from the street to the sky, pale yellow in the street light. Waves of dust and dirt were swirling in the wind.

There was no point trying to get a ride home. Walking, I’d be there in less time than it would take to get into a taxi. I walked fast, through the dirt and dust.

I wasn’t thinking about taking photos.

This was the second time I’d been caught in a dust storm. The first time was only a few days after I arrived. Since then, I’d been fortunate enough to be at home when these little events took place.

When you are out in it, the dust and dirt filter through the eyelashes and into the eyes. It sifts down into the hair, pushes into the weave of the clothes.

By the time I got home, and the wind had picked up even more. There was thunder and lightning.

And then, rain.

Rain,  in the desert, with thunder and lightning . . . in the evening.

What could be more heavenly?

A warm shower to wash away the dust was the only thing to add.