I can’t remember now, which day was so full of wind we had trouble setting the dams in the dirt ditch, maybe it was Thursday or Friday — when you don’t work for someone else each day tends to be the same as the day before and the day following.
Wind of that magnitude (55 m.p.h. gusts) causes us to go out several times at night —keeping the canal in it’s banks, the irrigation water in the proper ditches and the furrows going straight. All without weeds and debris, to choke everything off and cause floods. Runs like this give us a sense of absolute security.
Then the wind leaves, pushing its way onto other parts of the country. The setting sun lights up the water with jewels; the flat lands and canyons below our mesa shadowed in deep indigo and purple, the edges of the Uncompahgre rich in the color of rubies.
Your friend on a western Colorado farm,