The Arizona-Sonora Desert

The Arizona-Sonora Desert is contrary to the typical media stereotype of a desert. The Sonoran Desert includes 60 mammal species, 350 bird species, 20 amphibian species, over 100 reptile species, 30 native fish species, over 1000 native bee species, and more than 2000 native plant species. The Sonoran Desert area southwest of Tucson and near the Mexican border is vital habitat for the only population of Jaguars living within the United States. Wikipedia.

If you can find time to leave the areas huge cities, you will find an area rich in diversity and full of surprises. When I walk in the desert, I am home. All of the plants and animals are familiar. I love the cactus and other desert plants. I don't usually move too fast because there is always something to examine closely, from a fantastic lichen to a Christmas Cactus hiding in a creosote bush.

In the picture above, you can see one reason I love the desert. You can see.

The Hummingbird

A Route of Evanescence
by Emily Dickinson

A Route of Evanescence
With a revolving Wheel --
A Resonance of Emerald --
A Rush of Cochineal --
And every Blossom on the Bush
Adjusts its tumbled Head --
The mail from Tunis, probably,
An easy Morning's Ride --

The Smith Homestead at Nauvoo

The Joseph Smith Homestead in Nauvoo, Illinois

This house on the eastern bank of the Mississippi River predates the arrival of the members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to Nauvoo, (formerly Commerce), Illinois. After his escape from imprisonment in Missouri in 1839, Joseph Smith, the prophet, moved into this house. The house also served as the headquarters of the Church for about two years. While the Prophet Joseph was living in this house he received two revelations, one about baptism for the dead and another revealing that the Saints should build a Temple. He wrote, ""I presume the doctrine of 'baptism for the dead' has ere this reached your ears. . . . It was certainly practiced by the ancient churches; and St. Paul endeavors to prove the doctrine of the resurrection from the same, and says, 'Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? Why are they then baptized for the dead?'
" . . . The Saints have the privilege of being baptized for those of their relatives who are dead, whom they believe would have embraced the Gospel, if they had been privileged with hearing it, and who have received the Gospel in the spirit, through the instrumentality of those who have been commissioned to preach to them."

Miles to go before I sleep

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

Adam-ondi-Ahman

This really is a photo of Adam-ondi-Ahman in Daviess County, Missouri.

"This earth was once a garden place,

With all her glories common;

And men did live a holy race,

And worship Jesus face to face,

In Adam-ondi-Ahman.

We read that Enoch walk[e]d with God,

Above the pow[e]r of Mammon:

While Zion spread herself abroad,

And saints and angels sung aloud

In Adam-ondi-Ahman.

Her land was good and greatly blest,

Beyond all Israel's Canaan:

Her fame was known from east to west;

Her peace was great, and pure the rest

Of Adam-ondi-Ahman.

Hosanna to such days to come—

The Savior's second comin[g]—

When all the earth in glorious bloom,

Affords the saints a holy home

Like Adam-ondi-Ahman."

by W. W. Phelps 1835

Heaven in a wild flower

"To see a world in a grain of sand
And heaven in a wild flower
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour."

 

William Blake

Everyone needs beauty

“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul.”

John Muir

The good tidings of mountains...

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.”

John Muir

The Wasp

It is pretty hard to find anything poetic to say about wasps. If you don't bother them, they won't bother you applies most of the time but like many things in life, you may not know when you are bothering them. When you intrude into their world, they are perfectly well equipped to let you know what they think about you and the world in general. This wasp is pretty obvious, but there are wasps in the world that you can't detect quite so easily and when you make them mad, they cease to be the quiet background and use their amply endowed weapons to fight back. If you go around attacking people and bothering them, you just might find a wasp or two or more. 

The immortal towers

A Voice came from the sky:
"Set thy desires more high.
Thy buildings fade away
Because thou buildest clay.
Now make the fabric sure
With stones that will endure!
Hewn from the spiritual rock,
The immortal towers of the soul
At Death's dissolving touch shall mock,
And stand secure while aeons roll."

Henry Van Dyke

The morning miracle of light

'Tis done,--the morning miracle of light,--
The resurrection of the world of hues
That die with dark, and daily rise again
With every rising of the splendid Sun!

Henry Van Dyke

The Old Mill

I love our pleasant, quaint old Mill,

It still recalls my boyish prime;
'Tis changed since then, and so am I,

We both have known the touch of time:
The mill is crumbling in decay,
And I — my hair is early gray.

I stand beside the stream of Life,
And watch the current sweep along:

And when the flood-gates of my heart
Are raised it turns the wheel of Song:

But scant, as yet, the harvest brought

From out the golden fields of Thought!

Richard Henry Stoddard.

1(a... (a leaf falls on loneliness)

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e.e. cummings

All aglow

"Just before the death of flowers,
And before they are buried in snow,
There comes a festival season
When nature is all aglow."

Unknown

A different world

When I took this picture, I was living in a different world. Across the years, I realize that I could have chosen to stay in that world. Some people do. But I chose a far different future, not one filled with ice axes and crampons, but one filled with people and history. But every once and while, I wonder what it might have been like to climb yet another mountain? How we choose to live our lives starts over again every day. 

Marble Canyon

What makes the lingering Night so cling to thee?
Thou vast, profound, primeval hiding-place
Of ancient secrets,--gray and ghostly gulf
Cleft in the green of this high forest land,
And crowded in the dark with giant forms!
Art thou a grave, a prison, or a shrine?

Henry Van Dyke

Make straight in the Desert

3¶The ^avoice of him that crieth in the wilderness, ^bPrepare ye the^cway of the Lord, make straight in the desert a ^dhighway for our God.

Isaiah Chapter 40

Anomalies

No, this is not a fake picture and yes, this is House Rock Valley and those are the Vermilion Cliffs. I have always wondered why the Llama/Alpaca/Vicuña culture did not spread to the high plateau of Arizona. The climate and vegetation are similar to their native South American habitat. In one sense, they are just larger sheep. I have seen a llama running wild in the White Mountains of eastern Arizona, but except for a few specialized ranchers and pack train companies, like ostriches, they just haven't caught on. 

Actually, I know why. It is a problem with a lack of connections, no wholesalers to purchase the wool, no market to sell the wool and no interest at all in eating llama steaks. 

There's a certain Slant of light
 

There's a certain Slant of light,
  Winter Afternoons--
  That opresses, like the Heft
  Of Cathedral Tunes--

  Heavenly Hurt, it gives us--
  We can find no scar,
  But internal difference,
  Where the meanings are--

  None may teach it--Any--
  'Tis the Seal Despair--
  An imperial affliction
  Sent us of the Air--

  When it comes, the Landscape listens--
  Shadows--hold their breath--
  When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
  On the look of Death--

-- Emily Dickinson

Light Shining out of Darkness

Light Shining out of Darkness

BY WILLIAM COWPER

1

God moves in a mysterious way,

      His wonders to perform;

He plants his footsteps in the sea,

      And rides upon the storm.

2

Deep in unfathomable mines

      Of never-failing skill,

He treasures up his bright designs,

      And works his sov'reign will.

3

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,

      The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy, and shall break

      In blessings on your head.

4

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

      But trust him for his grace;

Behind a frowning providence

      He hides a smiling face.

5

His purposes will ripen fast,

      Unfolding ev'ry hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,

      But sweet will be the flow'r.

6

Blind unbelief is sure to err,

      And scan his work in vain;

God is his own interpreter,

      And he will make it plain.

The Sentinal

“Hot and tired I stop in the shade of an overhanging ledge and take a drink from my canteen. Resting, I listen to the deep dead stillness of the canyon. No wind or breeze, no birds, no running water, no sound of any kind but the stir of my own breathing.
       “Alone in the silence, I understand for a moment the dread which many feel in the presence of primeval desert, the unconscious fear which compels them to tame, alter or destroy what they cannot understand, to reduce the wild and prehuman to human dimensions. Anything rather than confront directly the antehuman, that other world which frightens not through danger or hostility but in something far worse—its implacable indifference.”

Abbey, Edward. Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness / by Edward Abbey. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1970.

A nuclear explosion

When he saw this picture, one of my grandsons insisted that this was a nuclear explosion.  Guess what? He is right. It is a nuclear explosion, but it just so happens that the explosion is on the sun. It is a commentary on our world that a four year old will fail to see a beautiful sunset, but instead sees a nuclear explosion. By the way, it does look like a nuclear explosion.

Sand of time

Don't try to guess what this photo shows. I will take you a long time to figure it out. Did you notice the ice on the leaf?  Here is today's poem for the leaf of time:

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
            A PSALM OF LIFE
      WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN
                    SAID TO THE PSALMIST
    TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
        Life is but an empty dream ! —
    For the soul is dead that slumbers,
        And things are not what they seem.
    Life is real !   Life is earnest!
        And the grave is not its goal ;
    Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
        Was not spoken of the soul.
    Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
        Is our destined end or way ;
    But to act, that each to-morrow
        Find us farther than to-day.
    Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
        And our hearts, though stout and brave,
    Still, like muffled drums, are beating
        Funeral marches to the grave.
    In the world's broad field of battle,
        In the bivouac of Life,
    Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
        Be a hero in the strife !
    Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
        Let the dead Past bury its dead !
    Act,— act in the living Present !
        Heart within, and God o'erhead !
    Lives of great men all remind us
        We can make our lives sublime,
    And, departing, leave behind us
        Footprints on the sands of time ;
    Footprints, that perhaps another,
        Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
    A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
        Seeing, shall take heart again.
    Let us, then, be up and doing,
        With a heart for any fate ;
    Still achieving, still pursuing,
        Learn to labor and to wait.

The Snow Storm

The Snow Storm by Edna St. Vincent Millay

No hawk hangs over in this air:
The urgent snow is everywhere.
The wing adroiter than a sail
Must lean away from such a gale,
Abandoning its straight intent,
Or else expose tough ligament
And tender flesh to what before
Meant dampened feathers, nothing more.
Forceless upon our backs there fall
Infrequent flakes hexagonal,
Devised in many a curious style
To charm our safety for a while,
Where close to earth like mice we go
Under the horizontal snow.