Desert Creatures

All I need is a grocery store and a refrigerator and I'm good to go while traveling. 

But I forgot to pack my spork. And coffee stirrers make lousy spoons. They make lousy coffee stirrers too.

Casting about my hotel room for anything remotely spoonlike, I lit upon my hairbrush. 

Washed it, removed as much hair from it as possible and it made a dandy shovel for yogurt and strawberries. Mmm, snorfle, gulp, seeya. I had an adventure to get to!

Wherever I went in Arizona I carried my long lens. I found desert wildlife photography challenging, in a different way than, say, rainforest photography. There is plenty of light in the desert. But the contrast between light and shade are harsh and hard.

Early morning, of course, is best, because the animals are out and about and the light isn't so hard.

I found this beautiful desert cottontail waiting in the hotel parking lot after my hairy yogurt breakfast. 

All rabbits are beautiful, but these big-eared pale creatures are stunning.

The big ears help the animal radiate heat. You'll see a lot of animals with oversized ears in the desert. 

Halfway up Cathedral Rock, a canyon wren popped out for a moment, then popped back into the shadows. I loved to hear its cascading laughter ringing in the canyons.

 This medium-sized lizard was sunning on a rock. He let me get close enough to see that he'd had some kind of injury to his nose. But he was still workin' his blue belly. He got up on a rock and started doing herky jerky push-ups to show it off.

Yes, you're made of awesome.

Something drew his attention several yards away: an ant, lugging some kind of dead dobsonfly lookin' thing across the rock. He hustled down off his soapbox and nabbed it!

Pizza delivery! I'll take that. Thanks. Don't know if the ant deliverygirl was part of the meal or not. You can see a hint of his turquoise blue belly in this shot.

After poring over my old reptile guide, I think he's a Southwestern earless lizard Holbrookia texana scitula. 

 Me and Russell, coming back down the rock. We didn't climb that straight up and down part. Just the flanks, thanks. Photo by Barbara Samuelson.

More typical Sedona wildlife: a blonde woman talking about something (Vortex energy? Holistic health? Meditation? Goat farming? Antihistmines?)  while beating softly on a skin drum. She was being videotaped for something or other. It was getting hotter than the hinges by the time they packed it in. Yep, all the wildlife is out in the early morning.

Up on Top of Cathedral Rock

Cathedral Rock is another vortex site in Sedona, Arizona. People say that the junipers grow in a spiral at vortex sites. They were spiraling like mad here.

I was attuned to the crazy spiralling vortex energy, but probably too excited by the prospect of climbing Cathedral Rock to fully feel it coming up through my feet the way it did at Red Rock Crossing.

These trees amaze me, the way they seem to be able to sprout living needles out of what looks like dry driftwood.

This one was situated so as to be a handhold for a steep bit of trail. 

I marveled at its smoothness, at the human hand grease that had waxed it to a fine patina.

The summit grew ever nearer. Well, "summit" is a negotiable thing. I am not the sort of person who would consider the heads of these hoodoos a "summit." For me, the summit was the first saddle in between them. High enough for Zick, you betcha. Not a crampon/piton gal.

The view got pretty dizzying in a very short time. 

It was a most rewarding climb.

Russell had told me about a mystery plant they'd seen that looked like an evergreen with tiny needles, but with white five-petaled flowers.

My first thought was that it looked like a potentilla, or a rose, with those five petals, that puff of yellow anthers.

Looking more closely, I found a seedhead that clinched its membership in the rose family. These plumy seeds are reminiscent of prairie smoke (Geum triflorum), also, surprisingly, a rose family member. 

I was unsurprised to find the "flowering evergreen" in a quick online search. Cliff Rose, Cowania mexicana.

I'd see it growing all over the South Rim of the Grand Canyon the next day!

Cowania mexicana seedhead

See the similarity? 

Prairie Smoke, Geum triflorum

Near Chase Lake, North Dakota. This photo makes me weep. 

Plant Taxonomy at Harvard taught by Carroll Williams is without a doubt the most useful course I ever took. I recall someone telling me that, while exhorting me to take the course, and I was a believer after about two classes. Plant taxonomy is not only fun to learn, it's surpassingly useful for the rest of your life.

We had been passed on the way up by a very fit older German gentleman in little shorts who said he climbs it most days. Well, that would explain his speed and thighs. He got up to the saddle  well ahead of us (see what I mean by its being high enough for me?) The view went on forever. Wow.

When Russell and I got there (Barbara was nursing a healing knee down below), this man was seated and in deep conversation with a woman with long gray hair whom he'd apparently met on the climb. He was saying something about a race of people from another planet who have been here before and will return in 2060. She said, "Oh, cool. Wow. Huh. I may not be around then."

Ya think? I started to chuckle silently, trying not to snort. I tried to imagine a conversation like that happening in Ohio, and failed.

I also tried to imagine myself climbing out on this ledge like these young people (see the red shirt?) with their selfie stick. Failed at that, too. We Ohioans are neither very imaginative nor tolerant of great heights. Speaking strictly for myself. 

But I sure enjoyed climbing Cathedral Rock with Barbara and Russell. I mean to do it again someday soon.

Thanks to my sweet friend Maria C. for the tips on where to go and what to do in Sedona!

Sedona, You Have to Stop.

The view from Sky Ranch Lodge. Ridiculous. 

Meanwhile, in the garden, an agave leaves a perfect print of the older leaf on the new unfolding leaf.

That gets me. And it's the whole reason I have an agave. Well, that and that my friend Lori sent me one, knowing I'd love it.

Seeing them in the wild is just the bomb. Even though I would never, ever want to fall into one. That could actually kill you. They are sharp as knives. Even my little baby here at home has nailed me a bunch of times. I still love her.

The light plays on them making endless kaleidescope shapes and patterns.

Take a picture of me with this massive agave, please. (On the grounds of Sky Ranch Lodge).

So Barbara Samuelson did. Now that's a decorative plant. I could use one of those in my yard in Ohio, but I'd probably have to take out a rider on our homeowner's insurance.

My friend Maria told me I had to climb Cathedral Rock. So I saved it for when Russell and Barbara could come along, knowing it would be awesome.

It was so cool to get closer and closer, and have this looming rock take shape right before us.

With an ocotillo and Opuntia tonsure. The sky couldn't have been any bluer this morning.

Looking down, some nameless pompom plantie. I wanted to take it home, but I knew it would hate Ohio.

Looking up, Russell against an impossibly blue sky. We speculated whether the sky just looked that blue by contrast with the red rock, or whether it was really that clear, that blue. 

We were going up into one of those saddles between the hoodoos, we were.

 I can't take all this beauty. 

Sedona, you have to stop.

When It's Right

This is a post about when it's right. When you find a place to stay that fits you, and better yet when you meet friends you've "known" for a long time without meeting, and when you do they're even better than you'd dared hope. Sometimes that happens.

I was blessed this whole trip to Sedona, Arizona, treated like some kind of birding royalty, put up in The Summit Resort, which had multiple pools, none of which I dipped so much as a toe into, because I was too busy putting boots to trail. I'd be throwing my stuff in the car for my next excursion, and I'd see a bunch of people lying on chaises around a pool, behind an iron fence, and I'd think, "Now why would I do THAT when the redrock desert lies out there just waiting to be explored? You can lie around a pool anywhere, anytime. You can't chase bushtits and ravens and desert cottontails anywhere, anytime."

After my festival work ended, I had a couple of nights for which I needed lodging. My soon-to-be dear friends at Scattered Light Jewelry, who were also in Sedona for the Sedona Hummingbird Festival, suggested Sky Ranch Lodge, up by the tiny perfect Sedona Airport, and it was a complete fit.

Lesser goldfinch at the fountain near the Sky Ranch Lodge's amazing overlook.

This is the view from the lodge's piazza. All Sedona stretched out below me. Wow. And scrub jays racketing through the brush.

I found this mantis nymph on some yucca in the lodge's extensive gardens and fell in love.

Once more, with feeling:

Needless to say, I was happy there. 

About those about-to-be-dear friends...

One of the great incentives for me to travel to Sedona in late July was the chance to finally meet Barbara Samuelson and Russell Strawn Smith of Scattered Light Jewelry .

I own a number of their pieces and love them more than I can say. 

See "A Tale of Three Pendants" for a detailed discussion of their metallurgical and aesthetic genius. I've been a true, raving fan of their work for a LONG time. Over a decade.

So when, in the course of Facebook nattering, I found out that Barbara and Russell were going to the Sedona Hummingbird Festival, that sealed the deal with wax and a big kiss. I was GOING. 

Look at them! You've seen their work on my blog, but in the flesh they're too good to be true.

Well of course when we met in the vendor hall it was all over. All we wanted to do was yak and hike and go find Indian food together. So we did.

Selfies, good and failed, followed. Russell: How do I work this thing? Your modern devices confuse me. 

Zick: Here. You put your thumb in front of the lens and Bam! Selfie fail! 

Barbara, behind us: Mmmmf.

At the glorious vendor mart at the Sedona Hummingbird Festival, I got me a couple more of their exquisite pieces, and every morning I mull: Shall I wear the acorn that opens up, or the Heart and Hand pendant?

Heart and hand. They swivel together on this ingenious pendant by Barbara. As they do in life, the heart's work is in the hand. One can't move without the other being attached, involved. Whether you're cooking, doing someone's laundry, weeding, painting, or making a piece of intelligent jewelry.

Russell's acorn pendant. Look at that finish! He makes the alloy on the lid himself. It's so beautiful. I've cracked the lid a bit as a hint

that this acorn opens up! I asked Barbara what I could keep in there. With a wry smile, she suggested two extra-strength Advil. Haaa. I was thinking of a dodo feather, but hey. Let's get real.

The sweet little latch.

Barbara and me: soultwins. Don't let those enormous soft eyes and gentle beauty fool you. She's a badass, just like me.

We went out to find the sunset and found this Chinese dragon cloud.

 And this agave. Barbara told me what it's like to strap an old agave inflorescence on top of your car and try to drive it home to decorate your store in Round Top, Texas (which is called Lark: Inspired Giving). It's not for toddlers. Those damn things are HUGE.

We drank in the sunset at Lizard Head, and reveled in each others' presence. We plotted on how we might get together again.

Everywhere we looked was beauty. When artists convene in the desert, look out. There's gonna be some heavy appreciatin' going on.

Agave sunset.

Look at those lovebirds! Just seeing them together made my heart fill up.

In such a place, with such lovely people. If only the sunset could have gone on all night.

Russell borrowed my phone and produced this image. Please, borrow it more.  It is he who constructs the botanically perfect pendants, articulated, that move and open up just as the plant or flower does. He is an artist, but he's also a mad genius engineer.

Barbara made a portrait of me against a flaming sunset.

I felt more like myself out here than I had in years. Sedona makes me feel hopeful. Like there's a bigger world out there waiting for me, like I'm ready to start a new chapter. Maybe it's in the vortices.
But I think it's probably in the love of new, old, forever friends. Here's to meeting and cementing friendships, and making online connections real, in the flesh.

Photo by Barbara Samuelson

 bashed shin and bino bra--that's how you can tell it's me and not Christie Brinkley.

Now go buy intelligent jewelry.