What an odd day it was. I was walking in the woods north of Great Barrington
Massachussets, climbing Monument Mountain. It was sunny and cool, totally delightful.
Suddenly, the sky darkened and from nowhere I was being pelted with dust and sand,
abrading my skin, clogging my nose and eyes. It was terrible. And just when it could not
get any worse, a pack of gingerbread men from hell leaped out at me from behind a tree.
Luckily I was carrying my trusty walking staff and was able to smash most of them to
crumbs, but not before they inflicted several severe bruises on my hands and legs. Later,
after the sandstorm ended, I discovered a few minor bite marks as well, but none broke
the skin.