Mining Scars In The Valley Below Madera Canyon — image by kenne
We Scar The Things We Love
There is always something worth trekking in the Sonoran Desert. Sometimes, the treks start early in the morning, driving across the Tucson basin over occasional low water crossings and cattle guards on narrow roads, stopping for big yellow buses.
A canyon road leads out of Green Valley, a quiet, peaceful community along the banks of the Santa Cruz River covered with oaks and walnut trees and a rich history with the Tumacacori Mission to the south and San Xavier del Bac to the north.
Crossing one-lane bridges through a grassland bajada, the road climbs toward Madera Canyon nestled between Mt. Wrightson and Mt. Hopkins on the eastern slope of the Santa Rita Mountains, forming one of the Sonoran desert’s Sky Islands, an oasis above this bowl-shaped canyon.
Although some are called “Friends of Madera Canyon” all visitors, be they hikers, birders, walkers, or just those relaxing at one of the beautiful vistas share a love of nature and being outdoors, forming a friendship that helps bond memoirs of a shared love.
“All the while, jumbled memories flirt out on their own,” intruding on nature’s beautiful vistas where a river once ran through, now shadowed by a high wall of tailings surrounding a pond, altering nature’s beautiful vistas above the canyon, producing lasting scars on the sky above and the earth below.
Ash-throated Flycatcher Near Tubac Along The Santa Cruz River
Ash-throated Flycatcher Near Tubac Along The Santa Cruz River
Lesser Goldfinch In A Mesquite Tree
Albert’s Towhee — Images by kenne
One of the birding trips I went on during last month’s Tucson Audubon Society’s annual birding festival was to Tubac, which is located near the Santa Cruz River. These are a few of the better shots I was able to get while there.
Since I live in the Tucson area and often hiked trails in and around Tubac, most all the birds we saw I can see from my patio. The major difference was being able to spend time with birders from all across the country and Mexico — an interesting group of people, if you get my drift.
— kenne
‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard – And sore must be the storm – That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land – And on the strangest Sea – Yet – never – in Extremity, It asked a crumb – of me.
In April one seldom feels cheerful; Dry stones, sun and dust make me fearful; Clairvoyantes distress me, Commuters depress me– Met Stetson and gave him an earful.
II
She sat on a mighty fine chair, Sparks flew as she tidied her hair; She asks many questions, I make few suggestions– Bad as Albert and Lil–what a pair!
III
The Thames runs, bones rattle, rats creep; Tiresias fancies a peep– A typist is laid, A record is played– Wei la la. After this it gets deep.
IV
A Phoenician named Phlebas forgot About birds and his business–the lot, Which is no surprise, Since he’d met his demise And been left in the ocean to rot.
V
No water. Dry rocks and dry throats, Then thunder, a shower of quotes From the Sanskrit and Dante. Da. Damyata. Shantih. I hope you’ll make sense of the notes.
— Wendy Cope
(The author was inspired by T. S. Eliot’s, The Waste Land.)
Like Cinderella’s
glass slipper only one shoe
had the right fit.
In life’s early years it took time searching for the right fit — trying on many different shoes before the music brought us together.
I
slipped into you tying you
to my body – knowing
only you could get so close.
We
have walked many miles not always in step but at the start of each day you were there.
You
supported each step through the good times when we danced together and the bad times when the music stopped.
Over the years I knew
where we were going you knew
where we had been
as our souls have now worn thin — broken
held together by twin only now expressing the secret face of our enter selves.
Having been seduced by a lover’s
darkest kiss no longer laced together — merely to be left behind in the window
of yesterdays kissed only by tomorrow’s sun.
Even while I walk this ground I imagine a time that was different For brown people whose land was Taken by people in long robes on horses Who proselytized the native peoples
Building missions in the harsh desert.
Today, like most colonial missions The ruins are preserved for tourists
Mostly old people, who walk the grounds Near the Santa Cruz River Learning about the Spanish conquest
What was, that is now no longer.
Winter Near The Santa Cruz River North Of Nogales, Arizona — Image by kenne
Abandoned Bunkhouse Windowsill — Photo-Artistry by kenne
San José de Tumacácori Mission Church Ruins — Image by kenne
Window of Yesterdays — Computer Painting by kenne
Image by kenne
Hiker — Computer Painting by kenne
Easter Along the Borderlands — Image by kenne
