Monsoon Sunset in the Catalina Foothills — Panorama by kenne
Desert Monsoon
The clouds are stacking up high In that clear blue afternoon sky Turning the scorching sun to mere silver lining Raising a cool hope in all desert being Is that the long-awaited monsoon coming? Who would know? The wind blows westward steadfast Giving the convoy of clouds a warm piggyback But who knows when…? The clouds will turn into precious monsoon rain Or just evaporate spontaneously once again!
Oh monsoon rain You kept us all in clear suspense Desert being are dreaming of you for so long Are you, or are you not visiting us soon?
The clouds have covered the June evening sky Colored light brown like bowl of boiled rice Signaling monsoon rain may be on its way Sooner we can hope for something real nice!
My silent conversations have come true Beneath the foothills tree of oil olive Serving as an umbrella from the sun Under a canopy of shy blue As seen through the silver side of green
This majestic tree adored by the gods Theme of the Hellenes fable Minerva’s olive branch for Attica Over Neptune’s swift as the wind of horse As the most useful gift to humanity
She stands alone above the flagstone Belonging to a family of 800 million Native to the cradle of life Not of the Mount of Olives We nourish her oil of extraction
A rock star for longevity Her age-gnarled trunk Covered with adorning suckers The source of the victor’s Spray of olive branches
Graced with biblical beauty Emblem of wealth and plenty Symbol of peace and home of doves Roosting at the late of day As the sunset adorns her shadow
Her branches rich of fruit A summer of green Turning black in October Will not be beaten of stick To extract her oil of olive
Building strength in winter Her spring blossoms many of number Assisted by the blowing breeze Casting off in celebration the flower of olive Like a late winter shower of snow
Each evening I sing in silence Beneath my foothill’s tree of the ages Looking to the sky In celebration of life With my keeper of the flame
— kenne
“His beauty shall be as the olive tree.” [Hosea 14:6, KJV]
Hiking Pima Canyon, October, 2012 — Images by kenne
The SCVN hiking group hiked Pima Canyon last week. This is a beautiful canyon in the Santa Catalina Mountains and provides for a moderate hike up to several dams. This time of year the conditions are very dry, even more so this year.
The trail head is in the western Catalina Foothills near Pusch Ridge. The canyon is a desert riparian habitat, which also makes it good for birdwatching.
There are several Hohokam grinding (mortar) holes located near the stream that probably flowed more freely hundreds of years ago when the Hohokam Indians were common to the Sonoran Desert. The Sabino Canyon Volunteer Naturalists share information and show children grinding holes in their program, “Back To The Past.” The gallery of photos below contain some images of grinding holes — click on any of the thumbnails for a larger view of the Pima Canyon images.
This past Sunday, we took Joy’s mother and sister to the nearby DeGrazia Gallery in the Sun. Years ago, as part of his Santa Catalina Foothills property, Ted DeGrazia built a Guest House for artists to work and show their work. Today the DeGrazia Foundation continues this legacy during the winter months. During our visit, we had an opportunity to see the work of Ralph Prata. Ralph resides in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York, but he, his wife, and their cat spend the winter months near Ventana Canyon.
We immediately fell in love with Prata’s work, so we went back three times, selecting different pieces to see what would best show his work in our foothills home. So the above, “Inside the Outside,” is now in place to welcome visitors to our home, where we live “inside the outside.”
Prata has said of his work, “My works do not necessarily document particular life ways nor tell stories. Rather they are to touch the spirit and imagination. Allowing the viewers the freedom to find their visions.” Our spirit has been “touched.” To celebrate our getting to know Ralph and his art, I wrote the following poem:
Inside the Outside
I began on the inside, Knowing not of an outside, Only knowing of my being. My knowledge is limited, A temporary prisoner, Protected by the inside. Demanding more room, Life on inside Began to grow short. Having no choice, Pushed from the womb Into the world of the unknown. On the inside, I had been content In my limited space. Now on the outside, I let it be known, Crying in the face of a new destiny. My first act of rebellion, Already expressing nostalgia For the innocence of the inside. Appealing to my essence of being, I soon learned the outside Could be my new inside. Always giving away, Some of the outside, So not to lose it all. To become inside the outside, Allows the practice of thinking To create a way of living.
— kenne
Ralph Prata outside the DeGrazia Gallery in the Sun Guest Gallery — images by kenne
Monsoon Sunset in the Catalina Foothills — Panorama by kenne
The Winds of Change — Image by kenne
Catalina Sunset — Images by kenne
“His beauty shall be as the olive tree.”
