August 2, 2004
After those storms of yesterday dissipated, they
consolidated into a high, white wall into the eastern
sky. The wind kept up. This morning was still, and
cooler. A few birds called to each other before I
stood up. I was glad that I might not be cooked alive
at noon to one o'clock. That is when the shade is
gone.

I had made this pathetic awning out of towels, rope,
the camp table, rocks and clothespins off the side of
the Tracker. I thought I was clever until the wind
picked up. Then, the towels just flapped on me as I
sat under them and worked.

I also thought the new thunderstorms coming with only
light breezes from the southwest would be harmless, as
the storm yesterday turned out to be. I didn't want to
reflect on how I'd stared into the rearview mirror
into the face of someone trying to keep wild
imaginings under control.

So, Brett went out on the last day (we thought) of his
walking/performance part of the collaboration. I had
mostly prepared that squares that I am going to paint
on before the trip to Wendover, but there are
seventy-two, so I worked on more Gesso layers until
the storms snuck up on Lemay Island.

Brett came back early, calling off the last portion of
the hike. He was already getting four inches of playa
mud on his hiking boots like instant platform boots
but that playa mud was wet before the storm. He felt
like he pulled a muscle in one of his legs from
lifting the heavy muck while walking. He was concerned
about getting soaked and struck by lightning.

This time, the rain came down in cloudbursts that made
sheets over the playa and ranges. We sat in the
Tracker while I read excerpts aloud from a guidebook
about Nevada. To the east, enormous clouds of dust
rose vertically a great distance away. They were giant
storms caused by storms above. There was the white of
the playa, the cream clouds of dust, contrasted by
cyan mountains, then a variety of grays in the clouds
above and a line of rain that would touch down to the
playa and blend everything with its color, land to
sky, sky to land.

The afternoon became clear. The tent had been battered
around, almost unmoored. The clear break gave us time
to document out on the playa. Then, a more significant
storm advanced over the Pilot Range and broke before
the sunlight was gone. I was both exhilarated and
tired of waiting for peace. A double rainbow appeared.
We could see it all. The sky glowed gold, then orange.
Actually, the air seemed to glow as we seemed to be
inside clouds. There was a blue fading to gray, steel
gray clouds and the fiery apricot highlighted by the
rainbow. The drops that fell were catching the light
and glowing themselves.

Lightning was more visible at night and more frequent.
We slept in the Tracker. We had to move supplies into
the wet tent to make room. I watched lightning shows
to the south but heard no thunder. We saw about twenty
sparkling lights at the bases of the clouds. They came
across the sky from the east as fast as jets. Maybe
they were jets, but I would think maneuvers would be
dangerous in this weather. Maybe they were something
else