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.

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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.