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.

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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!

Southwest Poppies

The Arizona monsoon season can be violent, destructive and frightening. But the humungous thunderheads that push miles-high and wide walls of dust before them as they barrel across the Valley of the Sun bring much needed rain.

In their wake the flash flood waters soak into the baked earth with amazing and awe-inspiring results. The desert plants have adapted themselves to long dry spells and wait for the monsoon rains to burst into deeply-colored gem-toned blossoms.

One such plant is the Poppy. With large, brilliant orange blossoms composed of 4 to 5 broad petals, I am reminded of Dorothy’s field of poppies in The Wizard of Oz. Such saturated colors seem to be a characteristic of the Southwest in response to the harsh climate.