It was quintessentially flawless winter desert weather: brilliant sunshine, low 80s during the day (shorts and t-shirts) and mid-40s at night (hoodies and campfires).
Those who know me know that I recharge in the desert. It’s my sanctuary, my peace, my center, my inspiration, my energy.
There, I can be just a desert rat.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
I can be a geeky tow chick and haul my little trailer, set up a cozy camp, hike on new trails, snuggle with my dog by the fire, drive my fearless Fiona up severely rocky hills to discover what’s at the top, and stand mesmerized under a moonless night sky spilling over with stars.
I know I say it a lot – and I send up a little prayer of gratitude every time I do - but:
Cancer?
What cancer?!
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| As always - celebrating LIFE. |
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| Little Stella, bedecked for the holidays. |
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| A happy camper and her exhausted doggie. |
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| Have I mentioned lately how much I love this boy? |
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| The desert teems with natural beauty. But there's man-made artistry, too. Graffiti? Perhaps. Sublime when discovered in the vastness of nowhere? Definitely. |
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| Perched high on a rusty, abandoned water tower, Buddha watches over a silent desert. |
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| Twisted rebar and chunks of concrete frame a desert landscape. |
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| Ocotillo encased by an old mine outbuilding. |
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| Hugely ancient ocotillo towering over trusty (and dusty) Fiona. |
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| "Mommy, what's that red stuff spurting out of your thumb?" Alas, there's sometimes pain with the pleasure of the desert - and mine came in the form of ripping a chunk of skin from my digit while in camp. |
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| Bloody thumbs are quickly forgotten when planning one's next travel adventure! |
