The days blur as we self-quarantine, to make less work for others. The days blur, the spot on the floor next to my bed, my feet land with a thud and I am IT director, chef, housekeeper, nurse, and tele-worker all before 9am. The days blur, my hand on backs, foreheads, my ears alert for coughing, thermometer at the hip like a gunslinger. The days blur, I touch my husband, so I don’t forget what it feels like. The days blur from rain or crying, the world a watery vision framed by window panes. The days blur until it’s midnight, 1am—I’ve waited out the cacophony of children for a silence smothered in anxiety. Privilege is a house, the hum of a deep freezer, a steady job. The days blur and my waistband expands as my mind frays, needing a hem. The days blur and the wound I am oozes, the scab yet to start. The days blur and racists fight for the right to be served—humanity is a bauble and capitalism has slashed the price. The days blur as COVID types its initials on a new high score and doctors adjust the margins. The days blur and when I finally walk out my door, the world will be less, not more.
A Great Blue Heron Atop a Neighbor’s House — Image by kenne
Flooded agricultural fields, riparian water ways, lakes and ponds throughout the Sonoran Desert are often visited by Great Blue Herons. Large stature, long serpentine necks and crest feathers give this bird, especially in-flight, a prehistoric look. The plumage is largely slatey gray-blue except for the head with is white with a wide, black stripes on the cap. Just about any water or wetland dwelling animal that is small enough to swallow (and occasionally too large) will be taken as prey. Like all herons, great blue’s use stealth with great striking speed to spear their prey below the water surface.
Catalina Front Ridge In Tucson (January 27, 2021) — Image by kenne
Got a dusting of snow on the south ridge, with over 12 inches at the higher elevation. Mt. Lemmon and other higher elevations are blocked in this view from our patio in Tanuri Ridge.
Northwest View from the Patio (Catalina Foothills) — Image by kenne
The clouds opened up just log enough to get this photo this morning.
Patio Panorama Northwest View
The view now is solid gray.
Patio Panorama Southern View (Look carefully and you will see large Snowflakes)
So far we have receive about an inch of rain here in Tucson with Mt Lemmon getting 12 inches of snow. We need the moisture after 2020 being the driest year on record.
A Winter Day In Tanuri Ridge — Black and White Image by kenne
“I prefer someone who burns the flag and then wraps themselves up in the Constitution over someone who burns the Constitution and then wraps themselves up in the flag.”
I bring them from the mountains, from the sea, from the edge of streams and look at them, heft them, hold them hard while they keep holding themselves harder. Is it because they haven’t had to change their surfaces in our time though, in theirs, they’ve suffered the blunt demands of ice and water and wind and god knows fire, been cracked and frozen, thawed, made molten again and again have started over grinding and being ground from monument to boulder, to rock, to river stone, to gravel, to pebbles, to sand, to slurries of grit, to dust?
So the shortest day came, and the year died, And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world Came people singing, dancing, To drive the dark away. They lighted candles in the winter trees; They hung their homes with evergreen; They burned beseeching fires all night long To keep the year alive, And when the new year’s sunshine blazed awake They shouted, reveling. Through all the frosty ages you can hear them Echoing behind us—Listen!! All the long echoes sing the same delight, This shortest day, As promise wakens in the sleeping land: They carol, feast, give thanks, And dearly love their friends, And hope for peace. And so do we, here, now, This year and every year. Welcome Yule!
