Why the Sonoran Desert Holds Me So!

An opening with Thoreau, Hemingway & Abbey; a close with Whitman!

These annual trips were born out of the struggle of life and death. Each
chapter is a different verse of a love song reflecting those origins:
"I've lived!
I'm alive!
There will be no regrets!"

I feel equal parts Thoreau, Hemingway, and Abbey as I write to you this Saturday afternoon.

Our casita is cozy, but we spend most of our day on the shaded porch.

We hike between five and six miles at dawn. On the better days, we hear a chorus of coyotes, see the graceful bounds of deer and the curious big-eared rabbits who always shock us as they hop with the deliberation of one on their way to see Alice in Wonderland, listen to the owls hoot before the sun rises over the mountains to the east, and the birds sing after it arrives.

We are always and have always been, on the hunt for javelina sightings along the trails.

"Be careful," the locals say. "They'll attack your dogs if they feel threatened."

But Samwise and Emily are keen and enthusiastic observers and no danger. They came to me with strong…