Planting Grass in the Desert & Bird-Doggin’

When we moved into our new-to-us house last year I wasn’t sure I would like it. One year later, both Tim and I are celebrating life in what has become a comfortable and secure home. What made the difference?

The most amazing things about this home include grass in the backyard and the multitude of hummingbirds that live along the canal that runs behind us. But best of all, this home has actually improved our lives in ways I could not imagine.

I’ve always had my writing and art to keep me busy and enrich my life, but Tim and I have had very few activities in the last several years that we could enjoy together. Tim had almost nothing outside of work at which he could relax and enjoy…until he became intrigued with nurturing and creating a lawn…growing grass.

He rakes, sprays weeds, waters and inspects just about every blade of grass in the backyard…and beware all birds! If caught feasting on the banquet of multiple layers of grass seed you will be subject to sudden scare tactics. Tim fully expects all of us to take part in protecting his domain…including Daisy, our mini-doxie.

So, the positives about this home are the creation of hobbies: creating a beautiful green lawn for Tim, caring for and feeding the hummers for the both of us, and bird-doggin’ for Daisy. Except Daisy isn’t into bird-doggin’…she just enjoys watching Daddy dash outside and run around the yard flapping his arms.

Daisy, the Hotdog Dog

Daisy and I enjoyed a beautiful break outside this morning, relaxing in cooler temperatures, and she in her signature position on her own lounger.

The pose below is known in our house as the ‘The Sphinx,’ or sometimes ‘Chicken Legs.’ To my daughter’s young ESL students in S. Korea, Daisy is known as the ‘Hotdog Dog’ accompanied by much giggling and merriment. She certainly has her own personality!

The View from My Kitchen Table

As I was eating breakfast this morning I gazed out my kitchen window, thinking about how the angle of the sun had dropped. Not in those exact words, mind you. I was noticing how long the shadows were so early in the day.

In the Southwest, longer shadows translate into cooler weather and looking out at my backyard the view was perfect. It was one of those visions that encourage you to daydream, or imagine there might be some place just like this in a ‘far off place’ where you could retire to perfection.

It struck me quite suddenly that this was reality, why dream about it? The grass is not always greener elsewhere. I was reminded to count the blessings I already have and was inspired to capture my view on paper in pencil. Now if I could just bottle it…

South Mountain, AZ © Wendy Fallon

Twisted Strength

I had the opportunity to sit at the back of my yard in the shade and enjoy a cooling breeze. While there I drew the mesquite tree below that grows along the canal. It is home to a very active community of ground squirrels.

I’ve written about how much I like these trees before, but this one is amazingly gnarled and twisted. Such character and strength this tree exudes!

Curiously, when planted as part of a landscape design in the American Southwest, it is recommended that the canopy be trimmed approximately 20% before the monsoon season to force its roots to go deep in search of water. This would prevent the wind gusts of the monsoon storms from grabbing hold of the canopy and twisting it in all directions or even causing the tree to be uprooted.

I don’t believe this tree has ever been trimmed, except by the ground squirrels while munching on the canopy up as far as their 8-12” stance on hind legs can reach. I suspect this tree has held up to the wind all on its own, twisting its trunk into amazing expressions. I love this show of strength, and the cooperative function between the tree, its environment, and the ground squirrel clan.

Love…Hate…Love!

The Arizona temperatures are cooling down. They now measure in the high 90’s F during the day and 70’s F at night. It still sounds hot, but is a definite improvement.

By about the second week in October, temps will fall out of the 90’s into the 70’s and 80’s during the day for the remainder of the winter. It’s this time of year everyone visits and/or moves to the American Southwest.

At the beginning of every winter I pledge never to leave, and during every summer I can’t bear to spend another day in the heat. Everyone excuses the unbearable summers with ‘at least it’s a dry heat,’ and ‘you don’t have to shovel it!’ But it can kill you. Really.

As the searing desert heat begins to cool, the landscape shows signs of a second spring. Flowers begin to blossom again and desert creatures come out during the day, including humans. It becomes a paradise hard to resist. I am impressed all over again by the abundance of life; blossoms of unbelievable brilliance and flurries of birds of all kinds. 

As the heat becomes yet again a memory, I begin to fall in love with the desert all over again.

‘Canyon Light’ © Wendy Fallon
watercolor

Unexpected Rewards

This past weekend we went adventuring again. My daughter, grandson and I drove from Phoenix north to Prescott to visit a park called Watson Woods. We packed a picnic lunch and expected to find a picnic table in the shade by a small lake around lunch time.

By the time we reached Prescott, 7-year-old Cameron let us know in no uncertain terms that a picnic lunch didn’t hold quite the excitement that a cheese burger did, and after much discussion, we stopped for fast food.

 At that point I didn’t know how much interest ‘nature’ would hold for a contemporary child of his age. I sincerely hoped we would stumble across a snake or a toad.

There are two kinds of outdoor parks. There’s the kind that have shade trees, picnic tables and bathrooms fifty feet from the parking lot and to which you could easily take your Grandmother or toddler. Or there’s the kind with no facilities and you need to carry a bottle of water for each person, and pack your pockets full of bug spray, sun block and toilet paper. Watson Woods turned out to be the second, and we had to pay a fee to park ($2).

It turns out that this park is a hiking trail made from a previous railroad bed. It’s smooth and flat, and although it took us an hour to reach the lake, it was worth every step. Advancing towards the lake from the parking lot, we suddenly broke out of the woods and marshland into pristine rolling hills, wildflowers, and the sight of the entire lake from end to end. With not a cloud in the sky and a variety of wildlife which included gray squirrels, quail, lizards, dragonflies, jumping fish and a mix of water fowl, even Cameron was impressed. We also came across a small family of sleek, healthy and happy cows, with a baby, and two horses, grazing in a private alpine-beautiful field adjacent to the trail. The awe-inspiring scenery made me reach for my camera, which I’d forgotten to bring. 

Getting back to the car took some real effort, and we all agreed it was a good thing we’d stopped to eat before our hike. We would have never been able to carry our cooler all the way to the lake and back! As it was, the picnic lunch was eaten before we reached home, as some of us had worked up quite an appetite.

We’re looking forward to returning, and being much better prepared.

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Doves of a Different Feather

When my husband and I moved to Arizona from the East Coast in 1995, I was horrified to discover the popular practice of ‘dove hunting season.’

These small, grey and gentle birds with the distinctive call are known as mourning doves. To be perfectly honest, I never knew if they were ‘morning’ or ‘mourning,’ but to me they will always be ‘mourning.’

They were literally a voice from my childhood. As a child I would spend nights with my grandparents. I would climb out of bed early in the morning and hear the dove calls through the open windows. Grandma’s yard backed up to the Church cemetery, where my Uncle was buried and his gravesite could be seen from the house. That is where the doves lived.

Since then I’ve always associated these birds with reverence and peace, and to a lonely child and perhaps even to my Uncle, companionship.

How was I to know that in the American Southwest, many other parts of the U.S. and the world, they were used as living targets?! I refuse to relinquish my benevolent childhood memory.

 

Camouflage

A tiny spot of movement catches my eye this morning, and I spy a 2 ½ inch gecko frozen in the shade on our block wall. His tiny arms and legs are spread-eagle and his miniscule toes secure him firmly to the concrete. As I look at my paper to write about him and then look back, he disappears. I now see his minute head and eyes peaking at me, shy but curious, around a corner of wall.

Dropping to the ground, he is indistinguishable from the gravel; his presence betrayed only by his movement. And now I’ve lost him completely.

Suburban Wilderness

One evening at dusk my husband glanced out the windows onto the backyard and saw two adult coyotes loping by. As we rushed to secure our mini-dachshund inside I’m not sure I really believed they were actually coyotes. We both hurried out to the back fence to get a better look.

Just as I caught sight of them, a couple of backyards past ours, one turned to look back at us.

The animal was unflinching, bold, and one of the most beautiful wild creatures I’d ever seen. He stared at the two ridiculous humans as if contemplating our nutritional value, then turned and continued down the canal with his mate.

Living along one of many criss-crossing Phoenix canals has been an educational experience. We live in a somewhat densely-populated, suburban neighborhood, 10 minutes from downtown. The Highline Canal runs parallel to South Mountain, borders our backyard, and provides a convenient route for wildlife and humans alike between the mountain wilderness and the suburbs.

I shouldn’t have been surprised to see one of the most beautiful, and dangerous, inhabitants of the wild southwest outside my backdoor. Because of their lush, grey-brown coats, highlighted with gold, cream and black, and black-rimmed unblinking yellow eyes, coyotes are often romanticized by humans into a noble beast. They are, in truth, quick and smart but also driven by their natural instincts to hunt food wherever they can find it, be it sheep, ground squirrel, or a small pet. Admittedly, we humans are intruding into their natural habitat, and they have become fearless and not easily discouraged.

I cannot describe my feelings as I came eye to eye with this truly wild animal. It was electric! I can only say that seeing such a wild, albeit dangerous, creature in photos or on TV is nothing compared to seeing one live and free.

I consider the experience a gift.

Saguaro Strength

On most mornings during the summer South Mountain is hazy with heat. It stands rugged against a pale blue early morning sky, its peaks bristling with desert brush and the profiles of stately saguaro cacti.

The monsoons usually come at us from the other side of the mountain. They roll in from the south, up against the south facing crags, over the peaks and ridges, and down the north side and into our backyard.

Every day I recognize the same saguaros along the ridge lines; their profiles firm and strong, storm after storm. Amazingly they live for as many as 100 years, and I realize just how many monsoons they’ve endured and how strong they must be.

Sometimes I wish I was that strong…in the face of my own storms!