Desert Dream
We loaded up the car and drove south - all the way down and out of Colorado, past mountains and prairies and huge groves of pecan and pistachio that have no business growing in such arid land. We made our way through Santa Fe (where the trees were blooming and a chill breeze was still blowing), and at long last found ourselves in Arizona - driving up and through shimmering mirages that erased the horizon’s division between road and sky.
This is our fifth year traveling to Tucson for the gem show - and it was a whirlwind again, with just two days to hunt for treasure before heading back home. Because of the Covid rescheduling, there were far fewer vendors and far fewer people (the first being a little sad, the second not sad at all)…but I’ve always been a quality over quantity sort of person so I’m not sad at all about coming home with fewer gems than in years past. There are many interesting and delightful stones in this mix that I am anxious to experiment with!
The thing I was most worried about with this trip was the heat - but, surprisingly, it didn’t make me want to crawl under a rock and melt. In fact, since we’ve been back, I’ve been feeling a little cold! Mostly we just tried to emulate the desert creatures. Outdoor activities (aka, outdoor shows and desert exploration) took place as early in the morning as possible. Mid-day, we rested indoors to avoid the scorch. And then in the evening? Time to explore once again, walking the neighborhoods in search of desert magic. I can’t say how I’d fare using this system in July - but in April it was glorious.
Because our last four trips took place in January, I was unprepared for how LUSH everything would be. Even as a kid, we would usually drive down to visit my grandma in winter - so that became my default for how the desert should look. But my oh my… April puts January to shame
Many, many of the smaller cacti were blooming. Trees were leafing out in bright, chartreuse-y green. And the ocotillo - they really stole the show with their vibrant red blooms dancing above our heads. Apparently they always bloom this time of year, whether the desert has received rain or not, and end up providing some of the only food for hummingbirds in the region. Everywhere we drove, they waved at us from on high like little flags in the wind.
I think I have to stop for a minute here and say that the way I see the desert is probably not the way most people see the desert. I’ve been told by several people over the past few years that they thought the Tucson area would be different, based on the way I talk about it. My definitions of lush and vibrant and colorful apparently leave much room for interpretation!
I guess I’d just say that if you look at it from a distance, trying to take it all in at once, you’re going to see a lot of sand and poky things and harsh light all tangled together. So my strategy is always to get down low. To see the way the light bounces and passes through and rests. To pick out individual moments and plants and eccentricities in the landscape. You might have to work for a minute to find beauty in the desert, but it’s THERE - and once you see it, it’s mesmerizing.
Since getting back on Sunday night, we’ve cleaned the house and planted bare-root apple trees in our someday-orchard and watched as the first of our horse pasture fenceposts went into the ground. It’s like we were gone from the farm for forever and also like we never left, which I think is probably just how it’s going to feel from now on. At least I’ve got a studio full of stones and a head full of ideas to remind me that this particular adventure wasn’t just a dream!