Morning Sun Saguaro

The sun rising in the Southeast this morning.

I like to imagine that life is like the rising sun, we always have a chance to change our lives and start over again, to follow new paths or to see things in a new way. The rising sun is the image I am keeping in my mind for the way I want to live my life, I want to see things as if seeing them for the first time, with wonder and joy, as if every sunrise is the first one I have experienced. The world is so beautiful and when I see things in this way, I feel good inside, as if I am the wonders I see in the world, as if I am a part of each colorful butterfly fluttering in the wind. I hope to always have butterflies in my soul and saguaros standing tall above my head in their wisdom.

I look up to the Saguaro.

This Saguaro is nearly 100 years old. I stand here thinking of all the things this plant has witnessed, how many sunrises and sunsets, how many lives born and ended within its vision and yet here it stands. It has tough skin and strong thorns that cause pain if one bumps into them. Standing here, I hear the song of the Saguaro as the wind gently blows past the ribs and spines. I touch the green flesh of the Saguaro and it feels like skin. I wish I had a friend that would stand by me like the Saguaro. These days the Saguaro and the butterflies have been my only friends. Oh, but it doesn't matter, I don't think I am fit to live in the human world. I think I'll spend days in the company of my wild friends. Maybe some day in the future someone will touch me the way I touch the skin of the Saguaro, with respect and love. I can feel the life of the Saguaro beneath its tough skin, as if it has a heart beating somewhere within. I have spent many hot summer hours in the shade of a Saguaro, resting from the heat of the day, and I have eaten their sweet fruit. I have bonded with these giant cactus. I love to hear each individual song as the wind plays through the sharp spines. Once I found three giant Saguaros growing together, the wind created a harmony of sound, each Saguaro played a different note. I sat down and listened. I think it is time to listen to the song of the Saguaro.


Written & photographed 10/5/2010

Pincushion Summer

So it rained two weeks ago three times, big short storms with lightning and pouring rain.  All the low spots in my garden filled with water and the washes were full.

These days of summer rains are when the gods walk in the desert lands.  If you have ever been out in the desert when a sudden storm comes along seemingly out of nowhere and you have nowhere to go except to endure the rain you will know exactly what I mean.  The gods walk in the desert when it rains.

The Pincushion cactus always flowers shortly after the rain in the summer, and sure enough, they did this time as well.



It has been so dry this past year that even many of the cactus and tough desert shrubs are dying, but not the Pincushions.  I admire their hardiness and their ability to flower at short notice. 




I think there is a message in this, the Pincushion Cactus is a wise teacher.

Enjoy the rains when they fall, enjoy the moments in our life when happiness and joy find us.  Endure through the drought, but don't let the long drought stop us from feeling the joy when those moments arrive.  This is how my life is in the last ten years, a never ending cycle of bad times and short periods of such grand joy that I feel like bursting with flowers, too.



I think I turned into a cactus and didn't realize it.

When I look closely at the Pincushion, I see myself as if in a mirror.



I'm waiting for the joy to come raining down, I know it will come again.  And when it does, you will recognize it by the ring of bright flowers sprouting from my head.

No wonder why I am so quick to smile when I am happy.

I'm a Pincushion Cactus.



Note:  Photos are of flowers from this land I call my garden, there are so many of them, probably hundreds of these little cactus sheltered under the shrubs and trees on this one little plot of land.

Spring Rattlesnake

The rattlesnakes are out. Last week I saw the first rattlesnake of the year, he was nervous and afraid, like they always are when they first emerge in the spring.

I stood about twenty feet away and talked to him in a calm voice. I apologized for disturbing him. I didn't leave until he calmed down because I know I will run into him again, I don't want him to remember me with fear.

Rattlesnakes are respectful beings and only rattle so that you know they are there, but I like to be on the friendly side with them anyway. I've noticed that since I started talking to the Rattlesnakes that they are much calmer around me, and usually just rattle for a second so I see them and then they go on with whatever they were doing before. Hopefully this will be the only time he thinks he needs to coil up and prepare to strike when he sees me.

Here he is after I talked to him and he realized I didn't mean harm.

I am happy to have Rattlesnakes in my life, they have much to teach about living.

Season for Flying Things

It is the season
of flying things
birds
wasps
cicadas
desert wrens chattering
doves softly singing
repetitive evening song
human voices call in the distance
doves settle into trees
quail families running in orderly lines
newly hatched life following elders

Tarantula Hawk
biggest of wasps
most painful of stings
buzz by my head
orange wings on metallic blue body
lands on fragrant Tenaza flowers
sip nectar
air thick and heavy
monsoon moisture building
I am insignificant here

Tiny lizards new to the world
run near my feet
smaller than my smallest finger
hovering hummingbirds
silent night hawks soar by
here the desert envelopes me
singing of community
welcoming
woodpecker talks to her children
perched on the edge of a Saguaro hole
I am no different that the tiny striped lizard
searching for sustenance among the fallen leaves

Bats arrive in the form of dark delightful butterflies
fluttering and circling overhead
Mesquite seed pods fall to the ground at my feet
offering food
is this a gift for me?
I give thanks to the tree
collect the seed pods
no other place gives so much
could it be that this place has accepted me?
I often witness food
falling from trees and cactus
for each gift I give thanks
I know that by receiving these gifts
I become part of the desert community
what can a human give to the land in return?
why didn't my ancestors teach me how to properly accept these gifts?
trees are teaching me instead
knowledge has not been lost only silenced
more pods fall from the tree
as if the tree is asking me to stay
I tell the tree that I will return
next lesson to be learned while sleeping under protective branches
below the tree where many birds sleep


© 2011 Desert Dreamer

Bees That Sleep in Flowers

I was outside admiring the red Cholla cactus flowers, the rose of the desert as I call them.

There was a bee inside the flower, it came out and perched on the flower edge, seeming to look at me. It stayed there long enough for me to take many pictures.

After this bee flew away, I looked in the other flowers. The sun was setting and the Cholla flowers were starting to close. I saw something odd inside one of the closing flowers. After looking closely, I discovered the flower was full of bees! I counted five visible bees and most likely there are up to five more underneath those. The bees were collecting in the flower for the night.
Many bees here in the Sonoran Desert are solitary, very few of them live in hives. Often these solitary bees will congregate at night to hold in the heat. I've seen a few collecting on the undersides of leaves, but nothing like this. Here is a picture. I didn't want to disturb the bees too much so I only took this one photo.

I went outside in the morning and the bees were gone...


I'm still figuring out how to identify bees...I know very little beyond being able to know a bee when I see it. What kind of bees sleep in Cholla flowers, have fuzzy hair around their face and are a very pale yellow, more of a cream color? I don't know, but I will learn.

Becoming Human - A Poem

I am not the woman
You see standing here.

I am the woman with wild hair
Dancing with souls
Of forgotten flowers.

I am completely human
Alive, real and wild
No longer tamed
Isolated
Domesticated
Or restrained.

I am free
Belonging only to the
Garden of the earth.

To look in my eyes
Is to face your self.

I am the sunshine
Touching your bare skin.

     © 2010 Desert Dreamer


                          Tucson Mountains sunset view

December in a Tucson Garden

Saguaro stands over the place I call my desert garden 

(I live on stolen land, it really isn't mine at all)

A Dragonfly landed on my arm to eat the fly it caught.

Baby Parry's Agave growing in the rocks.  This land is full of beautiful rocks.  Every time I dig I look forward to seeing the rocks uncovered and carefully replaced on the soil when I am finished.

Baby Fire Barrel with extra long thorns.

Pineleaf Milkweed in the late morning light and by it's side is a small Princess Agave with a flower stalk.

Pipevine with fresh new growth after the Pipevine Swallowtail caterpillars ate all the old leaves in October (eating shown below)