I have written previously in the precursor to this blog about our appreciation and enjoyment of sunsets. We are such avid fans of these shows of nature that we probably spend more time watching them than we do shows on television. As some of you may know, we are such sunset connoisseurs that we have our own rating system for the evening displays, the Timometer.
The other night F and I were indulging in our usual evening cocktails (in hindsight, a Tequila Sunrise might have struck my fancy) when we decided to head out to our front deck to catch the show “in person,” i.e., outdoors as opposed to lazily watching it through the windows from our living room, because it was supposed to be a particularly spectacular sunset due to the Saharan dust cloud that had settled over our part of the world.
The dust cloud, to quickly review, is a perfectly natural phenomenon that happens every year when a mass of dry, dusty air forms over the Sahara Desert and is blown across the Atlantic Ocean. This one, however, was the most massive in decades and was particularly thick in the Caribbean, with plumes extending over the southeast United States as well. The sand can reduce visibility, affect air quality and present health problems for people with allergies and other breathing issues, but it also helps prevent tropical storms from developing and can produce colorful sunrises and sunsets.
Anyway, as we settled in our seats for the show, blinking through the haze to take in the valley below and the hills in the distance, F mentioned that there had been an air quality alert issued for our area due to the dust. So we debated heading back inside when we realized that, what with the mad, mad world we are now living in, we had a ready solution: our coronavirus masks!
After memorializing the moment with perhaps the first and only selfie I have ever taken, we decided to live, or at least breathe, dangerously and took off the masks. And, not to mention, it’s very difficult to drink with a mask on.
My first selfie, complete with blurred finger
As we sat there contemplating the wonders of nature, I couldn’t help but be amazed that these particles hanging in the air before me had traveled thousands of miles across an ocean from a distant and exotic land. I swear I thought I caught a faint scent of camel dung, and idly wondered why those same air currents couldn’t drop us a few dates or figs out of the sky.
Man oh man, I thought, if travel is going to be restricted and we can’t really go anywhere, then this is the life: virtual travel in which north Africa comes to the mountains of North Carolina. A taste – or breath – of foreign lands brought right to our front porch. How weird, how wacky, how wonderful.
Oh, and the sunset turned out to be a murky mess, failing to live up to the sand cloud hype. No more than a 6 at best on the Timometer, but another 10 on whatever scale you might use to rate having a good laugh and a good time with the one you love.
We’re seeing the effects in Wilmington too. As far as drinking with masks on, that’s what straws are for. Always good to laugh when you can these days.