12 steps from the mountain

I have returned from the highlands to the kingdom of water and birds.  Or, as I like to say: "Houston, The Ego has landed."

When I left San Miguel yesterday, the temperature was perfect short-sleeve weather (55).  On the trip down from the mountains, I almost felt like an astronaut entering another planet's atmosphere.  By the time I got to Guadalajara, the thermometer read 60.  At Colima 80. 

And in Melaque, it had wandered above 90.  Getting out of the car was like entering the sauna everyone avoids.  You know the one. Where the cranky old guy keeps turning up the heat and dumping more cans of water on the rocks.  As if he were a shaman conducting a Scandinavian exorcism.

During my brief stay in Melaque (between my Miami and San Miguel de Allende jaunts), the laguna had been opened to the sea.  Exposing several sandbars that attracted an exotic assortment of birds.  (birds of a feather)

When I went shooting this morning, the scene had drastically changed.  The breach to the sea must have sealed over because the sandbars were almost submerged.

But there were still quite a few wading birds.  As result, you can most likely anticipate more bird shots in the next few days.

And I will do my best to readjust to the heat and humidity.  After all, it is October -- the month when Melaque's weather theoretically transitions from Hell to right-next-door-to-Hell.  What we mockingly call winter.

Maybe I should follow the example of my neighbor's puppies.  Hide in the shade of the stairs until it all gets better.