Now I understand why you wouldn’t like white dirt if you’re the Weather Jinx. When Mom and I left the Valley (not) of Fire, The Covered Wagon still had a long run to get to Utah for Christmas. We were still driving when it got dark, and that’s when the white dirt started to fall from the sky like snow. Santa may like that sort of thing, but it stresses Mom the duck out. For hours, she scrunched up against the driving wheel, blocking her ears with her shoulders in order to see better. The flakes lit up in the Wagon’s spotlights, and trying to see the road through them was like watching an antique TV before they invented channels. For awhile, the black and yellow road stood out behind the flakes, but soon the road put on a kind of white skin, and Mom had to perch higher and shoulder-block her ears harder to make her eyes look even closer. I tried to snuggle her to remind her to calm down, but being the Weather Jinx makes you grinchy, and she send me to the back of the Wagon.
Oscar the Yeti
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