The Sonoran Desert, the last home of Edward Abbey, welcomed us back with upturned saguaro arms. What a joy to arrive in 70-degree weather. Since then, it has returned to the strange weather theme of the season seen across the nation.
Half an hour before the sun pulls herself above the horizon each morning, Clarence is the first car to arrive at a popular trailhead. Among cooing doves and yipping coyotes, we begin our two-hour constitutional. There are several trails, and we stitch together a few to make a more extensive route. When we return to the parking lot, we are met by as many as forty cars, but rarely do we see many folks when we’re out kicking up desert dust on the rocky trails.
On our first morning back, we took a new opening stretch, climbed over two ridges, and upon beginning a descent to one of the shallow canyons, we heard the familiar refrain of two distant song dogs. With her pert ears, Emily has the best hearing of our trio and s…
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