At Midday In The Hazy Distance, Moving Slowly Down The Valley,
Can Be Seen Spiral Columns Of Dust That Resemble Pillars Of
Smoke.
They ascend perpendicularly, incline like Pisa's leaning
tower, or are beat at various angles, but always retaining the
columnar form.
They rise to great heights and vanish in space.
These spectral forms are caused by small local whirlwinds when
the air is otherwise calm, and are, apparently, without purpose,
unless they are intended merely to amuse the casual observer.
A cloudy day is rare and does not necessarily signify rain.
Usually the clouds are of the cumulus variety and roll leisurely
by in billowy masses. Being in a droughty land the clouds always
attract attention viewed either from an artistic or utilitarian
standpoint. When out on parade they float lazily across the sky,
casting their moving shadows below. The figures resemble a
mammoth pattern of crazy patchwork in a state of evolution spread
out for inspection.
The impression that is made while looking out upon such a scene
is that of deep silence. Everything is hushed and still; but, by
listening attentively, the number of faint sounds that reach the
ear in an undertone is surprising. The soft soughing of the wind
in the trees; the gentle rustle of the grass as it is swayed by
the passing breeze; the musical ripple of water as it gurgles
from the spring; the piping of the quail as it calls to its mate;
the twitter of little birds flitting from bush to bough; the
chirp of the cricket and drone of the beetle are among the sounds
that are heard and fall soothingly upon the ear.
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