It would seem to be just about the right time to visit Fairy Duster Trail at Spur Cross Ranch in Cave Creek. We see a perfect fairy duster.
Even though it is April, the supposed height of the wildflower season, it seems as though all of the blooms are somehow not enough. But maybe we are just greedy. After all, the slopes here are flooded with yellow.
Some saguaros are in bud – you can see the nubs on their tips. Too soon to see any actual blooms.
The jumping cholla has jumped off its parent but will not take root for a long, long time.
Prickly bear barely obliges.
Well, some do oblige, if you’re paying attention. Note the bug that crept in, barely visible.
Some plants seem to have already gone to seed, like this lady, possibly some kind of clematis.
Way beyond too late for this gentleman skeleton.
Yes, there is plenty of brittlebush. There is always plenty of brittlebush.
And some nice strawberry hedgehog.
But why can’t they all be blooming for us, all at once? Thank you, chamomile. You are right on time.
We sit for a while under a shelter to cool off.
In another month or two we won’t be out on this trail at all. It’s already too hot to go far.
Contemplate the cowboy on the old rusted fence.
Wondering if we’ll see a rattlesnake.
Envying the horseback riders coming through. Hydrate! A couple of the girls shout to us.
Is it a lupin or purple sage? Nubilous (look that one up). Anyway it won’t stay still to pose.
It all seems to make sense suddenly, in the presence of a wispy palo verde, but perhaps that is only a case of pareidolia (look that one up too).
Buddhist nun Pema Chodron relates a story about a woman running away from tigers, coming to a cliff and hanging from it with one tiger above, one below. A mouse is gnawing at the vine to which she is clinging. Suddenly she sees a little bunch of strawberries growing near to her on the rock. She looks at them, looks at the mouse, looks up and down at the tigers. Then she plucks a berry and puts it in her mouth.
In the distance, the creek line shows green.
Each moment is just what it is, Chodron writes. It might be the only moment of our life, it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life.
Focus on what is in right in front of you.
Even the dullest cheatgrass is splendid.
Everything is perfectly what it is. The tiniest euphorbia.
The most spectacular ocotillo embracing a young saguaro in a love grip.
Not too soon. Not too late. Just on time.
Jean Zimmerman 