La Nina and climate change have brought us a much longer winter. Springtime hasn’t happened. Business obligations were followed by a hernia operation to further stretch my frustrations. I haven’t been out hiking all year and it is mid-march!
Then, one day, I feel recovered enough to walk away from my stir crazied life, my clothing and coverings. One last piece of barbed wire is stretched to allow my nude body to carefully climb through the last obstacle and I am free.
It is a familiar spot in the Arizona desert. We haven’t seen it in years, however. I climb the hill and at the top, my bodily inventory tells me that I’m doing just fine. There is no returning burning pain and no exhaustion from inactivity.
I look to the north toward the mountains in the distance. It is a liberating sight. As far as I can see, I can walk unimpeded. It is only up to the current constitution of my naked body to set my limitations. We have all day.
We visit the familiar spiritual monuments created from past sojourners looking for a spontaneous act of gratitude, and creation. They are generally intact, but some house cleaning could be in order.
Apparently, people haven’t been visiting up here as much for the last couple of years.
My best landmark, an exceptionally tall barrel cactus has fallen over and has become a mass of misplaced spines and curled needles, laying on the colorful pebbles that it arose from. It has always been the marker a taller post in this more redundant creosote forest of waist tall vegetation.
We continue watching the changes that have appeared over the years.
We see patches of yellow in the distance. It has been cold and it might be early, but I figure that it is a carpet of flowers.
As we wander further, another yellow patch is ahead. It is a light yellow with a border of purple and grey.
We investigate. They are beautiful.
The purple is as we suspected winterized, barren mesquite, or acacia bushes, it a line of a small wash. Wispy dry grass waifs in the breeze in between the dainty yellow carpet.
It is enough, I’ve done enough for today. I stand with DF and listen to the breeze, the silence and then another light wind. We take our leave listening to the crunch of gravel and sand.
A white hand with extending fingers grabs turquoise space across the width of the sky. My eyes follow this from one horizon to the other.
We debate the route back.
Our definitive landmark is gone. I come out a hundred yards away from where I came into the desert.
The Sun Sets:
The colors mount, explode, ebb and then turn dark and gray.
There is certainly such a thing that is called grace.
I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.
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