Dust.

And wind. And sun.

Our relative inexperience with these elements is what made my partener and I stop and stare in awe and inquiry at the dust-covered vehicles on the road. They popped up for the first time in Nebraska: A Hummer here, a Toyota there, covered bumper-to-bumper in terracotta dust. As we neared Colorado, they increased in number until nearly every car around glowed golden in the heavy sun like sand castles on wheels.

"What IS that?" I asked the man next to me, my hands pressed to the glass, tracing the edge of the vehicle in question with my eyes in the over-zealous curiosity that is both my attribute and agony. He would smile, skin warmer in it's hue than the rolling sunflower fields on either side of us, his own honey-colored eyes tracing the lines of the car, lines of my face, then back to the car again: "I don't know. I guess we'll find out."

I did indeed.

On the walk to work this morning, my eyes--usually filled with gratitude and love for this city and countryside--were instead filled with the grit and dirt of the dry landscape. Likewise: my legs, arms, tongue, scalp, and every nook and cranny of my body not covered in clothing...I can feel it between my toes if I wiggle concentrate.

It's days like this I learn about the elements, reminded again just how strong a hold nature has on us. Typically and traditionally, we (and our strong human egos) like to think it's the opposite. Those of us who hold great reverence for the earth like to think we're all one in the same, the dust and grit being a place we rose from and will one day lay. Windy days in Colorado--just like the winters, I'm told by locals--teach us a lesson in reverence; in giving in to a power greater than ourselves. I'm not talking about God, though the lines of people making their way to work by foot this morning appeared strangely religious: heads bowed, eyes squinting into the blinding stare of the sun, arms held out in front of them as if to draw, or push away, something intangible only they could see and feel.

I'm still walking tomorrow, but I'm bringing a hat.

...And maybe a gas mask.