Arizona Desert Photography, Part Two

When I wrote last night's Hub, i.e. Arizona Desert Photography, Part One, I had enough snapshots available to write two or even three more. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your perspective), I "just had to" grab the camera late this afternoon...and ended up with enough photos for at least half a dozen more Hubs.

Which brings to mind the current 100 Hubs in 30 Days challenge. No, I'm not going to tackle that one, though I wish the participants well. Quite frankly, I'm just not competent to do so. It takes me anywhere from four to seven hours to complete a single Hub...I'm still hunting for a full time day job so Pam and I can safely eat more than Campbell's Pork and Beans (Where's the pork?)...our latest homestead requires that daily chores be done, let alone building projects and/or repairs to the aged camp trailer...Pam's disabilities mean medical considerations consume a bit of time...and handwritten letters to our prison pen pals need to be produced due to my apparent inability to locate the fresh printer ink cartridges.

But my gluttonous snapping of the camera shutter does make me wonder: Even if it does not happen in thirty days, will we see Arizona Desert Photography, Part One Hundred...? Possibly. Possibly. Especially if I can catch some of the local critters in action, such as the amazingly well camouflaged horned toad that Pam spotted the other day, or the bird (as yet unidentified) with the rusty crest of feathers who comes to call regularly.

In the meantime, we actually got a few hailstones along with a solid shower today, wiping out the last of the baby Pawlonia Royal Empress tree seedlings I'd planted and making mud puddles in a hurry.

By the time it was necessary to get started on chores, the ground was dry and slickery mud no longer stuck to one's raggedy tennie runners. Arizona's famous sunshine was breaking through the clouds, and subject after subject was shouting eagerly, "Shoot me! Shoot me!"

Our place consists of four acres we are purchasing plus an option to buy an additional (adjacent) four acres any time within the next two years. Although we've planned from Day One to exercise that option when the time comes, I had not really explored that parcel. The following shot seems (to me at least) to convey the sense of discovery that came with that exploration. One can almost feel the emotions of an ancient traveler as he comes to the edge of the only world he has known, staring in awe at distant mountains. Does he dare step forth from cover, from the safety of foliage rising well above his head, exposing himself on those relatively barren mountain slopes? What fearful enemy, be it human or four footed, might spot him if he journeys too far from the trees?

Not that I had to look far for evidence of fearful things. Pam and I chose this area for a reason: While we are modern enough to appreciate conveniences like shelters with locks on the doors, we tend to flinch a little at the price we must pay along the way. The backhoe operator who buried our water line--the line runs from a shared well to the corner of our property--is not a thoughtless person. He avoided damaging any more plant life during the process than had to be damaged. Nonetheless, he did of necessity rip a wide swath along the far edge of the second four acres, and a number of mesquite trees (which we value highly) bought the farm, as the saying goes.

 I did not take any photos of the swath torn clear by the backhoe.  There was a reason:  It was too depressing to record for posterity.  Even so, tracing the swath to its end point, it became obvious a miracle had happened.  The backhoe operator had shoved his final pile of dirt to a stop less than three feet from a blossoming cholla I had not previously noticed. 

Another cool feature of the "other four acres" appears to be an abundance of old, dried out branches and gnarled stumps that provide camera-pleasing curves and shapes. A couple of weeks ago, noticing a fellow wandering around picking up stuff from the ground near (but happily not on) our land, I stopped to introduce myself. He turned out to be a professional photographer. He was gathering small gnarly pieces of "driftwood" to serve as backdrops because, he told me, he was photographing grasshoppers.

My favorite drifty piece of wood spotted today, nearly two feet across, was much classier than any of the hand-sized pieces he was acquiring. In my personal opinion, anyway.

 Aside from the blossoming cholla, it was a huge (manzanita?) bush with bright red-orange berries--little berries but lots of them from a couple of feet above the ground to way, way up in the sky.  This towering producer was actually the inspiration for my tour of the "other four acres" in the first place; the brightly colored fruit stood out like a beacon calling to the curious:  "Check me out!  I'm beautiful!  Check me out!  I'm beautiful!"

Today's photo session produced far more material than the relatively few shots shown here, but all good things (as they say) come to an end. By the time the sun was setting in the west, I was back on our original acreage, clicking the shutter one more time, fascinated by the old ranch fence still standing along our western border. Two silhouetted fence posts, and....

Thanks for reading,

Ghost32