Desert Oracle Radio, the voice of the desert.

Night has fallen on the desert.

And so much for the gentle springtime weather.

Another cold storm, more snow in the mountains,

the skies so dark and gray.

The wind, driven by the wild energy of the angry spirits, the wild energy of the winter storm.

It was so cold this morning that I saw a rock climber just stuck to the side of a boulder.

Frozen solid happens a lot out here.

I was sort of tired of wearing coats and sweaters every day, but I fished around the back of the closet, and I found my old Irish fisherman sweater, what they call a jumper for unknown reasons.

Must be an old Celtic word.

And that's when I remembered.

It's nearly St. Patrick's Day.

Actually, I remembered when I saw the pyramids of Guinness 12 packs at the grocery store,

but I remembered all over again on this cold, gray, rainy morning. What we often do on this show is tell some strange tales that go with the season.

The Saints Day dedicated to the Roman British evangelist Patrick, the so-called Apostle of Ireland,

has become a sort of global binge-drinking exercise that venerates such pagan Irish customs as

leaving offerings for the she,

which is spelled S-I-D-H-E,

or I think in Scott's English, it's S-I-T-H,

but it's pronounced she like ban she

the supernatural creatures

known as the good people

...