The desert has a formidable, cautionary kind of beauty. The mountains have strong, jagged angles with a hint of threat to them in shape and shadows, and the grey, powdery desert floor combines desolation, a lack of sympathy, and a surprise of shapes and colors. We took a 4-wheeler ride out to see a ghost town last week, riding nearly fifty miles (round trip) on a ‘main road’ which was really mostly a well-traveled path down a desert wash.
I’d been warned about the abundance of rattle snakes- though it’s still too cold for them to be a real threat. I keep my eyes out for scorpions and I hope NOT to see one, ever. No one, however, bothered to warm me about aggressive, militant cacti that might jump out and attack. Nope. Discovered that little peril of the desert entirely in my own. A week later, I still have the mark where one of the cholla barbs pierced through the leather of my boot and into my foot. It took about 15 minutes, two men and two pairs of needle-nosed pliers before all the little cholla barbs were safely removed from my boots. Yikes.
Even so, it was a grand and stunning day filled with blessings and wonderful encounters. We marveled at ocotillos green from the recent rains, an unexpected arch, at the saguaros so stoic and brave, at more wild burros, and at the freedom of unencumbered sky and wind. Though thousands have come before us on this road, we had the joy and excitement of exploring and discovering this wild place for ourselves. Even the attack of jumping cacti came with blessings: I’m told many people have a bad reaction to this kind of attack that includes swelling and pain, I just have one little mark. And, to tell the truth, I’m thankful I was set upon by the cholla when I was instead of just a few moments earlier when I was squatting….well suffice it to say that a barb in my ankle was preferable to other places!
