Arizona Feabane on the Sunrise Trail — Image by kenne
Archive for the ‘Santa Catalina Mountains’ Category
Arizona Feabane On The Sunrise Trail Leave a comment
Arizona Feabane trembled in the breeze.
Fall Colors On The Trail Leave a comment
Mt. Lemmon Trail — Image by kenne
On Mt. Lemmon, the forest sheds its color,
and we pause to call the change beautiful.
Each fallen leaf is a small surrender to gravity—
and part of the forest’s larger renewal.
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American Snout Butterfly Leave a comment
American Snout Butterfly — Image by kenne
Its nose looks improbable.
The flower doesn’t mind.
They have agreed
not to discuss appearances.
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Storms Over The Catalinas Leave a comment
Storms Over The Catalinas Viewed from Our Patio — Image by kenne
Storm clouds crowd the Santa Catalinas.
Lightning strikes the ground,
and the desert holds its breath.
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Mexican Jay On Mt. Lemmon Leave a comment
Mexican Jay On Mt. Lemmon — Image by kenne
A Mexican Jay
keeps watch from the pine.
Below, we climb
through the blue morning.
One bright eye
above the trail.
The mountain says nothing;
the jay says plenty.
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Five Bright Petals Leave a comment
Scarlet Cinquefoil — Image by kenne
Along Sunrise Trail, I stoop
to meet a small red flower.
The mountains rise behind it—
vast, and suddenly far away.
Five bright petals
hold the sun for a moment.
I kneel, then stand,
carrying their red in my eyes.
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A Doe In The Canyon Leave a comment
A Doe In The Canyon — Image by kenne
She eats in the morning shade,
unhurried.
The canyon holds still
around her.
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Sepia, The Color Of Old Photographs 3 comments
Seven Falls Trail — Image by kenne
The canyon wears
the color of old photographs.
We climb into the quiet.
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A Blue Hush 1 comment
Echo Azure Butterfly the Bristlehead bloom — Image by kenne
An Echo Azure opens
its blue hush
on the bristlehead bloom.
Along the trail,
a small piece of sky
finds a place to rest.
Bristled blossom,
bright wings—
the morning holds still.
The butterfly lifts.
The flower nods
to the passing light.
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Black Sky Over Sabino Canyon 1 comment
Saguaros in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
The black sky rolled across the canyon wall,
throwing long shadows over the saguaros.
For an instant, the desert became a study in contrasts—
dark sky, bright cactus, silence broken only by distant thunder.
No cathedral built by human hands could rival this
rough sanctuary of rock, sky, and living towers.
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Catalina Storm 1 comment
Image by kenne
Catalina Storm
the storm came in
like it owned the place.
the foothills went dark,
the saguaros stood there
taking it.
that’s the thing about the desert—
months of begging for rain,
then acting surprised
when it finally shows up.
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The Case of Mistaken Identity Leave a comment
Queen Butterfly — Image by kenne
The Case of Mistaken Identity
To the untrained eye,
this queen butterfly is a monarch—
just another orange traveler
floating through the morning sun
as if it had nowhere special to be.
But lean in a little closer.
Notice the absence of those dark veins,
the subtler markings,
the slightly different arrangement
of nature’s handwriting.
It is like mistaking one hiker for another
from across the ridge,
until they wave
and remind you
that everyone carries
a distinct face into the world.
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Plume Thistle 2 comments
Plume Thistle On The Sunset Trail — Image by kenne
The trail winds upward
through oak and pine,
and there it stands—
the plume thistle,
guarded on all sides.
No one reaches for it.
No one gathers it
into a bouquet.
Yet the bees know better.
They arrive humming,
certain of the treasure
within the fortress.
I remember how often
the world mistakes protection
for hostility,
and caution
for indifference.
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Yellow Salsify Seed Heads Leave a comment
Yellow Salsify seeds — Image by kenne
Before the leaves have turned,
before the mountains
have lost their summer haze,
the salsify knows.
Its seeds rise
into the cooling air,
announcing a season
the rest of us
have not yet noticed.
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No Drama In This Sky Leave a comment
Santa Catalina Mountains — Image by kenne
No drama in this sky,
no thunder, no blaze—
just a quiet occupation
of white under gray.
The mountain breathes slowly
under its coverlet of cloud.
And something in me
loosens,
as if certainty were never
the point at all.
