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Veronique de Turenne


The heat of the santanas, that's the first thing. Then the motion. Your house rocks, your car rocks, you're pretty sure that, with one more hot and howling blast, you'll jump out of your skin. And then there's the way things smell.

These winds suck moisture from everything they touch, send the molecules spinning. Sage and roses and pepper trees, eucalyptus and pine and a newly-waxed car. Up at the barn, where only plants the deer and gophers disdain can survive, the lavender gives up its heavy purple scent, thick and dizzying.
Foxglove and lavender

Next entry: No two days the same

More by Veronique de Turenne:
Good night, 2016
Congratulations Lidia and Dan!
Rain and maybe more rain
Weather on the way
Sunset light
Previous story: Go fer a good pun. Fail.

Next story: No two days the same

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