The past two Saturdays have been less noteworthy than most because of something extreme and strange to the Arizonan physique: extreme cold. Last Saturday wreathed upon all who entered the street a bone-chilling cold that sunk chiseled ice claws into the skin and just did-not-let-go until it had sucked every last iota of warm out of the body. This weekend, far less so, but the cold still created a lessening of those who were willing to brave the midnight of the Ave.
Also, it would seem, that the Mill Street Preachers have a “retreat” to Las Vegas where they vanish from our sight and appear in a far, far more neon and noise filled realm for a time. I couldn’t say exactly how they are faring out there – as I doubt their money for trivia scheme works so well – but I suspect that I can prize some stories out of them whense they return to our presence and ears. Although the break is welcome enough.
This weekend, Nutmeg decided to come out to join us for a short time and numerous others of Drum Circle fare also arrived to compete at the scene. The tribal drums rumbling in the background made for a staccato thunder and underlaid the cold with the warmth of cordial conversation and good company. Rob and Ashley came to see us, bringing with them a troupe of comers. Amish brought about his new dog and brought messages about his designs on the next Estrella War, and even some idle thoughts about garb.
This night, like others, bent short under the stars and I found myself returning home earlier than I would have usually had. Although, of late, midnight is later than I usually remain in the midst of drums and conversation.