The hiking club followed up on its promise to explore volcanic Saddle Mountain, near Tonopah, AZ. It worked out well to approach from the north, since there is more green to enjoy on that side. The rains have produced a lot of green "grass." It's not really grass, but looks like it from a distance. The spiny, stalky ocotillos are leafed out with dense, but small, green leaves. It's the last color I expected to see.

It takes effort to give up this notion that lichen belongs in alpine settings rather than in the desert. It is surprising how lush and thick it can be here--on the desert floor, at 1000 foot altitude. You really could do some rough orienteering on a cloudy day just by noticing the green (or yellow or orange) fuzz on the north side. Coffee Girl presents a sample of this:


Wasn't "The Desert Year" written by Joseph Wood Krutch? He was a great author who probably doesn't get read as much as he should. (His later years were lived in Tucson.) The over-rated Edward Abbey gets read in his place.

RV snowbirds like me try to appreciate the beauty of the Sonoran Desert in winter. But that might be a lame experience compared to experiencing it over a twelve month period. 

It would not be hard to experience a slow and horrible death on the desert floor in summer, while just a few feet away there is sacred shade, sombra.

We miss the monsoons down here! Well, just the same, I will keep this a thought experiment.


Cyootsie-wootsie is not the scientific term that first leaps to mind when discussing cacti. But I wanted to tickle this little darlin' behind the ears. That wouldn't have been such a great idea, with those fish hooks. This cactus is the size of an elongated tennis ball. The fruit looks like a little red chile pepper.


Anthropomorphism is supposed to be a big sin for those approaching nature scientifically. But I'm not. I want to further the art of hedonistic experientialism in the outdoors, just as the Peripatetic Poodle has done throughout his charmed life.