It is dark and quiet this evening. I can feel electricity building in the unusually dense air around me and in the thick clouds blanketing the normally clear desert sky.
A couple from Pennsylvania checked in about an hour ago. Jack — who is starting to get a little homesick — turned in right after checking online to see when he might find a flight out of Albuquerque (not soon, I’m afraid); Joey is on the couch in the lobby, where he fell asleep watching TV; and Harvey is snoring softly under my chair.
It is Earth Day. That was always a big deal at our house when I was little. Mom would take me out to pick up trash, and we would talk about conservation and why it was important to shut off lights when we weren’t using them. One year, she made me a solar oven, and we used it to bake some cookies. I don’t know what happened to that solar oven. We used it several times when I was a kid.
I didn’t do anything special for Earth Day this year. I guess I should have, but I didn’t think of it until we were leaving the school and saw a poster the kids had made, encouraging everybody to recycle.
Maybe one of these days, I’ll be able to install wind turbines or solar panels to power the Tumbleweed. Out here, where the sky seems bigger and closer, it’s easy to remember why stuff like that is important.