The big rigs' brakes are singing again and again as we creep along at twenty miles per hour, now eighteen miles per hour, now slower.

The snow fences slither across this prairie land, just north of Elk Mountain. With my window down, my arm navigates the heat of the day and the cool sprinkled rain.

This thunderstorm's droplets seem to defy gravity as aerodynamics walk them up the windscreen.

cauliflower clouds

beyond thunderstorm tails,

Red Desert