Driving back from Phoenix got a little bit dicey the closer we got to Quartzsite. The wind kicked up and gusted enough so Michael could no longer draft the semis. By the time I took the wheel in Quartzsite, it was "blowing like snot" -- I think that is a Canadian idiom -- and the sideways barn door we call an RV was rather hard to keep between the white lines. I white-knuckled it for an hour, then Michael took over just before the gusts doubled and the rain began.
Snug, warm and dry in our nest in Windy Cove (that really is the name of this canyon!), we are sipping a lovely Malbec and listening to rain drip off the eaves. Soon the pulled pork will be hot and ready to pile on tortillas.
Let tomorrow take care of itself.
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