I grew up in the land of snowbirds and desert rats. Snowbirds are the yearly visitors that start arriving in October and leave before May. Desert rats are born in Phoenix. Most people come here in the winter time from somewhere else. They come in the winter time with little thought about what will happen in the summer time. I loved the heat when I was a kid. (Not so much any more, but I never have to shovel sunshine.) I loved the horny toads, red and black racer snakes, crawdads, lizards, and other creepy crawly things. I love cactus and other delicate and amazing survivors of blasting heat. I was interested by the student that portrayed the desert as a nothingness wasteland. I once showed him some of my pictures of my beloved desert. He decided that I looked at it from a very different perspective. I have thousands of pictures so I will restrain myself to just a few to give a sampling of some of the things I love about the desert. My life in the desert sun fried my brains and helped make me who I am today.
|
Got to have a sense of humor |
|
Small and beautiful. These flowers are big compared to some. |
|
Many cactus flowers stink because they are attracting flies for pollination |
|
Baby spines. |
|
Plants grow in any crack or crevice that holds a bit of dirt and water. |
|
Hiking trail |
|
Better than a barbed-wire fence |
|
Sharp eye looking for breakfast |
|
Only in the desert is this considered a suitable 'lawn' ornament. |
|
Blossoms are busting out in February |
|
Stately Saguaro |
|
Wickedly dangerous beauty |
|
One cactus took up residence on another cactus |
|
Gorgeous array of colors each spring |
|
Fairy brush |
First came in an email to me....you can find several versions on line:
You buy salsa by the gallon.
Your Christmas decorations include a half a yard of sand and 100 paper bags. And several chile ristras.
All of your out-of-state friends start to visit after October but clear out come the end of April.
You think someone driving while wearing oven mitts is clever.
Most of the restaurants in your town have the first name "El" or "Los."
You think six tons of crushed rock makes a beautiful yard.
You notice your car overheating before you drive it.
Your house is made of stucco and has a red clay tile roof.
You can say Hohokam and people don't think you're laughing funny.
You no longer associate bridges or rivers with water.
You see more irrigation water on the street than there is in the Salt River.
You know a swamp cooler is not a happy hour drink.
You can say 120 degrees without fainting.
Vehicles with open windows have the right-of-way in the summer.
You discover, in July, it only takes two fingers to drive your car.
The pool can be warmer than you are.
You can make instant sun tea.
People will drive more than 100 miles just to see snow.
You run your air conditioner in the middle of winter so you can use your fireplace.
People with black cars or black upholstery are automatically assumed to be from out-of-state or nuts.
You know that Valley Fever isn't a disco dance.
The water from the cold water tap is the same temperature as the hot one.
You can (correctly) pronounce the words: "
Saguaro," "Tempe," "Gila Bend," "San Xavier," "Canyon de Chelly," "Mogollon Rim," "Cholla," and "Ajo."
It's noon in July, kids are on summer vacation, and not one person is moving on the streets.
Sunscreen
is sold year round, kept at the front of the checkout counter, a
formula less than 30 SPF is a joke, and you wear it just to go to the
Circle K.
Hot-air balloons can't go up, because the air outside is hotter than the air inside.
No one would dream of putting vinyl upholstery in a car.
You learn that a seat belt makes a pretty good branding iron.
You break a sweat the instant you step outside at 7:30 a.m. before work.
You realize that asphalt has a liquid state.
Hanging out sheets on the line dry faster than they do in the drier....flash fried.
2 comments:
Hi Ruth!
I love the pretty pictures; true reminders that beauty can be found anywhere that we are willing to look - and that with determination we don't need a whole lot of dirt to take root. I read your post about books and this one in succession, and I want to ask: Have you ever read the adolescent novel STARGIRL by Jerry Spinelli?
I think you might really like it. It's about a teen girl who's a free spirit, set in the desert and is essentially an extended metaphor for independence (and what the world wants to do to souls who refuse to get in line.) All in all, it's a beautiful and hopeful book.
Thought your inner teen might dig it. :)
Love,
Vanci
Found it at the library online. Thanks for the suggestion, I'll check it out.
Post a Comment