Cane Cholla

The winter snows have left the high desert looking like a crazy latticework, the cholla cacti providing a skeletal easel for the snow-painting. The air is thin, the cold is tangible, and the silence is absolute.

So many times I have stood in this same spot in the height of summer, feeling closer to the sky than even the hawks.  And yet, I've never been here before.  Arctic storms have created a place that's never been, and one that will no longer be when winter passes.

The seasons change, and the desert - a living, breathing entity - changes from moment to  moment.  Spring will come and the high country will emerge from its winter sleep in riotous color. The chollas will bloom, splashing the desert floor with brilliant pink among the yellows and oranges that light up the landscape. 

The sage will add its muted and tender greens and lavenders, and the breeze will carry the scents that blend more perfectly than any designer perfume has yet to match.  Only nature can do this.  Only life can invoke this kind of magic.  The desert is alive.