It rained much of yesterday afternoon. Sporadic downpours complete with thunder and lightning. It was a raw day, and temperatures danced in the mid-fifties. The casita has a metal roof, and we cozied up inside with the door open and the fire hopping in the hearth. With the drumming rain and the snap, crackle, and pop of the burning logs, it was an auditory delight.
Rain never smells as sweet as it does in the desert. Even better was how the trails looked at sunrise. Dew sparkled on the yellow wildflowers and hung on cactus spines. The cholla was puffy white and looked dangerously huggable. The ocotillo is a flush green, and the saguaro’s accordion epidermis is swollen with luscious rainwater.
The birds sang louder this morning and seemed cheerier.
We only heard one set of songs from a coyote family, and when Samwise got too far ahead of us, I said, “Sam, that’s far enough. Wait for us, please.”
He sat and waited while listening to the song dogs. The result is one of my favorite photos …
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