Once the process of bringing forth new life passes, leaves fall, vines become brittle to the touch, and seeds are transported to new lands where life can begin anew when the rains return.
There is reason to believe that the rains will not return, or at least with so little only the hardiest of the hardy will survive when the heat of the new normal bakes the already dry land.
What will come of this wasteland? A land where the winds carry a deadly virus bringing death to weakest of the weak, where many feel they are not accomplices to what caused the suffering.
The Drought Continues In The Desert Southwest — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Coyotes passed through the field at the back of the house last night — coyotes, from midnight till dawn, hunting, foraging, a mad scavenging, scaring up pocket gophers, white-breasted mice, jacktails, voles, the least shrew, catching a bite at a time.
They were a band, screeching, yodeling, a multi-tone pack. Such yipping and yapping and jaw chapping, yelping and painful howling, they had to be skinny, worn, used up, a tribe of bedraggled uncles and cousins on the skids, torn, patched, frenzied mothers, daughters, furtive pups and, slinking on the edges, an outcast cow dog or two.
A Full Moon Night In The Sonoran Desert — Photo-Artistry by kenne
A Clear Midnight
This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless, Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done, Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best. Night, sleep, death and the stars.
A Morning Walk Along The Tanque Verde Wash — Images by kenne
Our community of Tanuri Ridge backs up to the Tanque Verde Wash. The wash continues to eat away at our property line. Soon, this part of the trail will be washed away, along with the “branch art” monuments along the Tanque Verde banks.
Recent mountain rains in the Catalinas are beginning to bring ash from the Big Horn Fire to the wash.
In 2010 we experience our first Sonoran Desert monsoon season. There was lots of rain, wind and lightning. This year’s monsoon season has been a nonsoon! So far we have had only 2 inches of rain. This weekend’s forecast was for heavy rains and flash flooding — somebody stole our rain!
So, for this monsoon season the best I can do is revisit an August 31, 2010 posting. — kenne
Catalina Foothills, Tucson, Arizona — image by kenne
During this summer’s rainy season, many storms have provided much-needed rain to southern Arizona. However, when it comes to rainfall, not all areas are treated equally. We had received little rain till the other evening, so when the rain began, it was a time to rejoice. So much is special about the desert. I wrote a poem and produced a video. You can read the poem below and/or in the video.
Desert’s Rainy Season
Desert’s rainy season is A product of summer highs Mixed with atmosphere lows Bringing a refreshing brief break To her blue-skied summer heat
Desert’s wide-open spaces Provide panoramic views Showcasing threatening clouds Only too often breakup Before reaching your sky
Welcoming rains come Only at Desert’s well Playing havoc with forecasters Never seeming to learn She does not keep time
Wind shaking the trees, Olive, palo verde and mesquite Shadowed by rains wetness Shining with each lightning flash While drinking of life’s fountain
Olives falling from twisted branches Rolled by wind over wet flagstones Pounding rain leaving behind puddles As rainwater exits through openings In old pueblo walls
Wind chimes dance wildly Ringing out in nervous joy Desert’s unlocked sounds Composing a melodic refrain Proclaiming Desert’s delight
“I feel again the poignant urge to grasp it, embrace it, know all
at once and all in all; but the harder I strive for such a consummation,
the more elusive that it becomes, slipping like a dream through my
arms. Can this desire be satisfied only in death? Something in our
human consciousness seems to make us forever spectators of
the world we live in.
Maybe some of my crackpot, occultist friends are right; maybe we
really are aliens here on earth, our spirits born on some other,
simpler, more human planet. But why were we sent here?
What is our mission, comrades, and when do we get paid?
A writer’s epitaph: He fell in love with the planted earth,
but the affair was never consummated.”
— Edward Abbey
“To the consternation of the “committed” reviewer, he is not a
conservationist or an environmentalist or a boxable list of any other
kind; he keeps on showing up as Edward Abbey, a horse of another
color, and one that requires some care to appreciate.”
— from “A Few Words in Favor of Ed Abbey” by Wendell Berry
Sonoran Desert Eye
“He had the zeal of a true believer and the sting of a scorpion.”
Lower Ventana Canyon (02/20/15) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The Bighorn Fire has been burning for days in Ventana Canyon.
I love hiking in this beautiful narrow canyon. The lower part of
this canyon contains a lot of desert plants, such as the saguaro cactus.
This Sonoran Desert signature cactus is not adaptive to fire.
Thousands have already been destroyed by the Bighorn Fire.
It may take hundreds of years to return, if at all. Sad, very sad.
— kenne
Ventana Canyon (Note Invasive Grass in the Foreground) — Photo-Artistry by kenne