It’s Saturday which means it’s time to sweep up what hit the cutting floor this week.
Today’s Week_End is all about caliche: the official dust of Texas!
When George Harrison wrote Stuck Inside a Cloud, it’s pretty clear he wasn’t thinking about caliche.
I am. I think about caliche quite a bit.
In Texas, caliche is home-grown, cheap and used to make heavy things like cement and unsubstantial things like haze.
You can see a country mile because there’ll be a caliche cloud billowing above it.
The back roads of Texas are a caliche cache.
I measured the caliche this afternoon as I shook it off the air hose so the bell could breath again. It’ was 3-4 inches deep in most spots.
It covers my tennis shoes and gently wisps up my legs, turning my black jeans white.
It clings to me.
I’ve decided if I’m going to stay in Texas awhile, I’m going to have to make peace with this pervasive powder.
I share my RV and my sinuses with caliche.
I no longer stir it up by dusting 3 times a day.
I’ve quit shaking Henry like a mop before he comes inside.
I keep Visine at both end of the RV.
I only breathe inside.
I’ve abandoned the 5 second rule. If it touches the floor for a nano-second, it’s guaranteed to taste gray.
I pretend that my hair is still brown and that it’s just gathering caliche.
I now view the world through a gentle caliche haze as I sing along with George. (some minor changes to the lyrics)
I’m Stuck Inside a Cloud of Caliche
Talking to myself
Sighing out loud
Only I can see me
I’m stuck inside a caliche cloud
We’re moving to a new site today. I’ll post again once the caliche settles.