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Desert Squares and Weathered Land

Took my time crossing the river today – through the Indian reservation.  The stacked hay, irrigation gates and storm carved sand demanded attention.








This last photo made me sad.  And the irony that it is on Indian land, only amplified that feeling.


Summer (Or, ‘Didn’t I say last year I wasn’t staying in the desert?’)


Summer has crept into the desert wearing steel toed boots.

Got into my car after work today greeted by a balmy 121 degrees (that’s 49.44 Celsius).  Cooled down to about 119 by the time I arrived home and was able to safely remove my cardigan.

It’s that time of year that you sleep on top of the covers, listen to the night song of the air conditioner whirring.  The time of the year I find my dog laying directly on top of the floor vents – hogging the relief of cool air.

You know that ‘whoosh’ of hot that hits your face and arms when you open a pre-heated oven?  That’s pretty much how it feels to open the front door in the morning.

The thing is,  you get used to it.  Even when tar from the store parking lots stick to your flip flops, there is no flinching.  Just a knowing and respectful acknowledgment.

Getting used to the juxtaposition of ‘outside’ and ‘inside’ is a skill you acquire too.  Layers.  Layers of Summertime ‘outside’ undergarments and air conditioned ‘inside’ outerwear is required.  (Say that three times fast.)

Being English, I do not ‘tan’.  I keep my fair complexion, and I’ve adapted.

I marvel at the tourists in their tank tops and shorts, panting as they reach the oasis that is the door to their destination.  I was that person years ago!

Now I slowly stride near them, in my long sleeved work tops with an air of ‘Yes, I am of the desert.  My people do not fear the heat’.

I jest.  I fear the heat.  It’s directly related to  fear of the electric bill.

I HAVE to have a cover on me at night.  I sleep under a cotton sheet with a fan at the foot of my bed.  The A/C is set at 85 in the house.  Much to the chagrin of guests who keep their homes in the 70’s.

Good thing I don’t have many guests I suppose.

Unless we’re counting the Summertime creatures … but that’s for another post.


Photos for four four 13



Here’s some photos I’ve taken within the last week.  The second to last pic is in my yard, I’m really hoping it isn’t a tarantula hole! :-O

Gearing up for a great interview post  so watch this space. 🙂  Amanda.


Photo therapy

Lay in bed this morning with not a fiber of my being wanting to get up.

I am in a funk of all time funks for a myriad of reasons.  But life goes on.

Laundry was skipped last weekend due to my tooth pain – blah, blah, blah – I’m so over talking about that.  But, fact is, I had to do laundry today. 

I milled about the house, crawled back into bed.  Found myself watching ‘The Shahs of Sunset’ reunion show on Bravo.  What the hell?  I don’t even watch the show – no clue who the people were.  But evidently, reaching for the remote and changing the channel wasn’t in the cards.

Get up Amanda. 

I sat outside.

I haven’t been reading as often lately, tried to read a few pages.  Haven’t picked up a paint brush in a while either, nor my camera. 

“Go do laundry, and take some pictures” a voice in my head told me.  From where I sat, I could see fog over the river – the mountains looked beautiful.

Okay.  Get dressed and just DO IT!

So I did it.  Shoved our laundry into a couple of washing machines and took myself and my camera off for some quality time.

Heads up – I’m the Queen of zoom and crop.  Whereas, my son captures a subject and leaves in the surroundings, whether aesthetically pleasing or not, and his photos end up amazing.  I love that about him.  He doesn’t edit life.  I just have a problem not editing my mouth.

Without further ado:


The reason I took my camera.  Fog is rare here in the desert.  It called to me.  The Colorado River creates it from time to time, and every time it does, its gorgeous.


Decay and growth.  I loved the juxtaposition of the two.


And here too.  The area I was shooting in is prone to fires.  The tree in the back obviously burned and the new growth in the foreground just made such a pleasing image.


Love the curl of this metal. 


Beauty and the desert beast


The reservations irrigation system. 


Looked like a mirror – or a framed picture to me


Gawd I loved these


Spent shell – wonder what was on the receiving end of this?


He’s a rocks rock


On my knees in rams head weeds to get this shot, pretty sure I have a couple of puncture wounds – but worth it


Home now – this little guy is growing through the steps.  I won’t go into that metaphor.  But I was proud of it and that little flower inspires me.

On the way home from the laundromat a song came on that for that very moment in time, couldn’t have been more apropos.   Every word spoke to me.  And I don’t know when this funk will break – but I know it will.  I know this.  But I’m nothing if not authentic, and I never ‘fake it til I make it’.  I’m not going to plaster a smile on my face.  I don’t feel like smiling just yet.  I have big decisions to make, big changes to consider and time is slipping by quickly.  I am sad, scared, 50 shades of blue and deep in thought.  But life is still beautiful.  I am still grateful.  And tomorrow is another day.

Here’s that song.

Desert butterfly & a bee

Taken from my porch steps.  You know, it’s really, really hard to get a bee to stay still long enough to focus.  I had to ask it very nicely. 😉