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The homestead despaired. Awnings creaked and shutters rattled while the wooden structures buckled under the accumulated weight of years of neglect. Left derelict by those who once lived there, them that had planted seeds in the alkaline soil, and those who had watched their crops turn to dust beneath the brittle sun, the house bore the brunt of their sorrow. Secrets lingered too in the musty rooms where the walls were painted with the rust colored patina of decay.

A dust devil kicked up just as Magdalena pulled open the heavy, wooden door that guarded the root cellar. The door was wrenched from her hand by the gust and flung back and slammed against the earth. The impact sent a plume of choking dust and debris into Magdalena's face stinging her eyes and filling her mouth and nose with the clinging grit. "Damn.", she coughed.

Carefully she worked her way down the stairs leading into the root cellar. She stood poised at the bottom until her eyes adjusted to the dim light, her skin tingling as a shiver trailed across her skin. Looking around she noticed several items lining the crude shelving that occupied three walls. Pulling the flashlight from her pack, she cast her beam across their surfaces. There were jars, bottles and an odd assortment of objects indistinguishable at first glance. Absentmindedly, she picked up a dust-covered jar off a shelf and wiped it clean with the corner of her apron. A sigh she expelled ruffled the feathery cobwebs that clung to the sides of the jar, revealing dozens of moving specks and the remnants of a spider's nest.

Her eyes scanned the shelves in the half-light, appraising. Tucked into a corner amongst a nest of shredded newsprint, a shadow of color caught her eye. Reaching her gloved hand into the darkened space she gently tugged at the fabric and felt it pull away from its resting place. The cloth was coarse and rough, hand-woven in colorful geometric shapes. In her gloved hand the material lay frayed and crumpling. Inside the small pouch were several small irregularly shaped objects. Carefully, she tucked the small bundle into her shirt pocket, before resuming her inspection of the cellar.

The bright October light strained her eyes when she came out. The wind had changed direction as well. Fine particles of sand and dirt stung the tender flesh on her face. Using her arm to shield her eyes from the growing windstorm she headed across the yard to the safety of the small adobe house. The floorboards creaked under her heavy work boots

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