The Cat of Santa Lena

Those are the Santa Catalina mountains, seen from a ridge near where we live. Most of the sky was quiet and blue, but over the Catalinas--which my Norwegian heritage makes we want to call, the Cat of Santa Lena's--whatever weather there is bunches up and does what it really wants to do, given a place that is cooler that the desert floor.

I stopped again, later in the day, which gave the wind and whatever it carried a chance to spread out, reaching out toward the Rincon Mountain.

There is no secret in this. It is just that beautiful is beautiful, and that beautiful in the Sonoran Desert is often a study in contrasts. Down here, where the floor is, we are brown and green and throbbing. But up there, not far away, but much higher up, everything that is happening to us is becoming something dramatic, spreading out, making us admit that we live in a splendid place.
It is not the only splendid place: they are everywhere. But this one is ours.

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