I am taking my blog, which has been inactive for oh so long, into a new direction, reflecting some of my changing interests and passions. I will celebrate my 70th birthday soon, and I have decided that it is time to stop talking about wanting to do this or that. It’s time to figure out how to do what I want to do … or stop talking about it. It’s time to get off of my pandemic isolation couch, stop bingeing on cookies and Netflix, and start living.
After several years of trying to get someone … anyone … to take me camping, I started researching how to take myself camping. I spent a year or more reading blogs, watching vlogs, and following FaceBook pages by and about women traveling and camping solo; I finally embarked on my first solo camping trip a few months ago.
While I will continue to post images of my life near home, I will also share with you my camping experiences. Come along with me as I explore new paths and ramble along the highways and backroads of our United States of America.
It’s not all dry, hot desert in Arizona. Bear Canyon Lake, one of several fishing lakes built by Arizona Game and Fish, is nestled back a series of dirt roads on the Mogollon Rim. The lake, with a depth of 50 feet and set at an elevation of 7600 feet, is accessible only by foot trail from the undeveloped campgrounds above.
The harshness of the desert landscape with the flat grey sky, dried grass, and formidable, imposing boulders hit me hard while I hiked through Boyce Thompson Arboretum a few days ago. This image is a visual representation of the relentless record-breaking soul-sucking heat (34 days of 110+ temps) and drought in Arizona, the bizarre nature of our world with pandemic isolation, unemployment, and online classrooms, raging wildfires, and the endless vitriol of this election cycle. I pray for rain, for healing, and for peace.
A bit further along the trail, I noticed this desert tree softening the jagged edges of the landscape. I stopped and gazed on the tree a while, taking into my mind and spirit the refreshing green life, and I was reminded to be grateful for all of creation … to be grateful for all that life offers. Without the difficult times, how would we recognize the good times? Without the sad times, how would we recognize the happy times?
While it shows evidence of Arizona’s drought, the arboretum is still a treasure of plants and trees from the Arizona and Sonoran desert as well as from around the world.
It’s Friday evening after work and I need some quiet space. I am blessed to have the Desert Botanical Gardens, a small piece of nature amidst the concrete and glass and noise, just a few miles from my house.
The cacti are in various stages of blooming here in Arizona.
Fragile blossoms atop such dangerous spikes
The Palo Verde in full bloom presents a soft contrast to the majestic saguaro. Soon the blossoms will drop and blow away and we will see the green tree with its ever so tiny leaves. The Palo Verde relies on its green trunk and branches for photosynthesis because the leaves are too small to produce enough nourishment for the tree.
This herd of about 40 wild horses has captured quite a bit of media attention lately because of a federal proposal to remove them from their Salt River home near Phoenix.
I felt blessed to spend a few hours with these breathtakingly magnificent animals.
It’s easy to forget that the Salt River Wild Horses are just that … wild. I got this closeup using a 100mm lens, which means that I was very close to the horse, who had approached me. Within a few minutes, the horse got bored and moved on.
Most of them have deep gashes and cuts, evidence of their power and strength. They fight. They bite. They jostle for dominance. They are pure beauty.