High Grew the Grasses

Look at Sunny Juliet, close to sunset, sitting in this year's tall grass! Good thing she has that bright orange harness so I don't lose her on the savannah! 

 

Even a big ol' barrel cactus can be tricky to spot this year, unless you're right on top of it. 

And Peasy's tree, below -- usually surrounded by cow-trampled bare earth, this year it emerges from a sea of grass. 

Blades of grass as numerous (or so it seems) as stars in the nighttime desert sky. And yet, myriad as they are, they always merit a closer look. 

And now, if you're feeling lonely or altruistic or wise or holidayish or on-the-fence-about-the-hollidays, consider joining the conversation here. Thanks!

High Desert Morning Explorations

 

This old hulk of a car is what we went to see, and it was worth the walk. I knew a friend back home in northern Michigan would be interested in seeing the discovery.

I took some close-up photographs for reference, too. Do you know what you're looking at here?

Now for a couple of other angles --

And not too far away was this: 

But the old car wasn't the only sight to be seen in the vicinity. Someone lived here once but had probably moved out before the roof fell in and the adobe bricks collapsed outward. Since adobe is mud, it easily returns to nature when not maintained.

I'm no expert in adobe construction, but my hiking partner and I were intrigued, when inspecting a section of wall that remains in place, to see that the exterior bricks covered a layer of rocks, with more adobe plastering over the rock for the interior wall. At least, that's how we read what we were looking at. 

But Mother Nature had been doing more than rusting and eroding. Some years back, my friend told me, there was such a spell of deep cold that many barrels cacti were killed when their interior water supplies froze and burst the cacti. This big, old guy, with a chomped-away section on the lower, woodier half and new growth on top, definitely looks like a long-term survivor. Good to see! 

Don't we have fun?

Go for a ride? I promise I won't say a word!

[Note: For my book reviews and musings, go here.]

Adventures Close to Home: Ocotillo Forest

So often what I show you in these adventures must seem repetitious, but today's mountain hike went in a different direction. Our destination was high ground where the ocotillo is getting ready to open its flowers to the sun. Here is the point where we really started to climb --

-- and maybe the photograph directly below will give some idea of how far from the road we ventured. Can you see our ghost town home at all back there in far distance?

One thing I know you can see in that last image is how open the ground is, compared to lower down in Dos Cabezas. We had gradually left most of the mesquite behind and now encountered more barrel and prickly pear cactus.

The old girl (dog girl, that is) had been staggering around earlier in the cabin, as if her legs could barely keep her upright. She can be like that in the mornings. Once outdoors, though? She is a new animal! Rambunctious as a puppy, eager to run and explore! I do keep an eye on her, of course, to make sure she doesn't get dehydrated or exhausted, and when she seems to be looking for water, I stop and we both have a drink. I also suck on a lemon -- for the electrolytes -- and Sarah has a couple of dog treats for energy.

Despite many stops for purposes of hydration and photography, the humans were on a mission this trip. Here is Therese (Sarah standing by), showing me why we made the arduous climb. 

But you still can't see how very tall they were, those ocotillo. This picture Therese took of me, standing right next to one of the plants, may give a better idea.

And here is Buddy in the ocotillo forest. Can you see him? He's a big dog but looks little here!

The ocotillo flowers are not yet fully open, but before long every tall wand ends in a bright red flame. They're getting there....

The forest of ocotillo had been our main objective, but it was not the only gift the mountains gave us. What has Therese spotted here on the edge of a deep ravine?

If we were back in Michigan, I'd call these black-eyed Susans, but what are they called here?

Then there were these brilliant mounds of color, such are also blooming along the roadsides right now, and I took the opportunity (far from roads) to get a good closeup. Now do my friends want to argue about what this flower is?

Once again, it was a beautiful and exciting day in the mountains -- and this time we humans refrained totally from political discussion. Not a single word! That was the icing on the cake.