Ok this was a few weeks ago but I am still finding little piles of red dust. Areas I haven't cleaned, ornaments I haven't moved, books on bookshelves bringing a new meaning to dust covers.
I woke to an eerie orange glow coming through the blinds. Armageddon it wasn't but spooky it was. If I hadn't seen the news the night before I might have been forgiven for thinking that climate had changed - well rather more suddenly than the scientists think. But actually it was of course a weather problem, a slipping along the continent of usual red centre life.
Cycling along to work, I was struck by the thought of pea soupers, green fog, and how this was a more modern version, possibly carrot and orange or pumpkin and cumin. Boats loomed out of the cinnamon harbour, waves slapping hollowly against the harbour wall.
Yes, the dust finally lifted and the silly souls who had to rush to the carwash to clean their soiled people movers were feeling even more silly the next day when another storm moved in.
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