Wild Mustang Encounter

Memories of childhood come flooding in whenever I see horses. My father's passion was to train and work horses. Watching Western movies was a fun pastime for us as kids. Nothing was more exciting than bronc busting wild mustangs as shown in the movies. 

Here in the desert, we have real wild mustangs. Small herds roam the area, and we see them from time to time as we cross the desert to go to town. Yesterday was one of those times. We were in no rush, so when we saw a pair of them, we drove off of the highway and back closer to them via a dirt road. 

When we got back there, we couldn't see them because there was a rise between us and them. I figured that I could sneak up on them and get a better picture. They would surely run when they heard me. As I got near the top of the rise, I could see them standing at attention looking at me. I stood up, and then to my surprise, they started to walk and then trot toward me. I thought they would be scared of me. I was a full 150 yards from the car and less than half that from them. I decided to jog toward the car. They were obviously not afraid of me. 

As I got to the car, they kept coming and stopped for a photo-op near the car. These two bachelors, young stallions, I guess came urged by curiosity. I was no bronc-buster today. At first sign of me, they came forward ready to engage. I headed for safety with my kids  and wife wondering why I was running back to the car. This time nature ran on four hooves and I enjoyed them from the car. 

Today the Day Mustangs Ran

No cowpoke, no not today.

I turned and ran the other way.

They got the best of me by far

as I sat safely inside my car.

I had come to see them running free

and crept up as quiet as could be

and poked my head up ov'r the rise

and stood just lookin' in their eyes.

I saw them and they saw me.

My heart raced wild, my mind set free,

for just an instant neither moved-

not horse, nor me, we only stood.

They didn't turn and run away.

They stood and whinnied and faced their prey.

One stomped his feet and swung his head,

trotted to me and moved ahead.

I looked at them, and they looked at me.

They were coming closer I could see.

I was the one filled with surprise.

I thought I could scare them by my size.

But they were young and strong and brave

and I was feeling small today.

So I took a final shot quite clear,

turned tail, and jogged away from there.

Tucked safe inside my car I laughed,

they had followed directly in my path.

Wild mustangs great roaming free

amazed to see them next to me.

I never thought there would be a day

I would see them in this personal way.

So close they stood, so tall and straight,

these stallions two followed me today.

Bluebirds

I often step out of the school into the sun.
It shines brightly on my face.
I can feel the warmth soaking in like steam rising from home-baked bread.
As I turn, I catch a flash of color out of the corner of my eye -
brighter than the sky, sparkling in a mirror lake.

The bluest blue, 
    the kind you see on paint chips at the hardware store...
    the kind in a child's story book that teaches the name of colors...
    the blue of suckers, Otter Pops, and sapphires in display cases...
    the one-of-a-kind 1970's blue of my Tux for a prom - velvet and satin...
    the color of lava lamps oozing through space...
    the color of a Sonic Raspberry Slushie or a bejeweled Elvis jumpsuit...
    the color of Blue Suede Shoes, Blueberry Hill, and Blue Velvet, so mellow and buttery.
 
Only this was the vibrant color of a bird.
No wait, there are more than one dancing in the tree.
I can't take my eye off of them.
I want to hold them in my hands and stroke their feathers and feel them breathe and then powerfully take to the air.

They are as vivid as memories of love, fun, and friends at special events.
Scarcely there, tucked in the edges of my heart
as welcome as love's first kiss.

I am so grateful for memories of Cobalt, Azure, Cornflower, and Indigo and for every small and beautiful carrier of them. They say that nothing is truly blue, only the reflecting and bending of light, but they are real to me.

My Drive Through the Desert

As late winter scrambles to make up its mind about temperature, snow, rain, wind and mud, I marvel at the changes and love the feel of the warm sun on my face. I gaze at the passing of clouds in waves overhead and the glistening frost covering everything in the mornings. Long drives in the desert filled with what the locals call "Windshield Time" gives one plenty of time to think - having the road to oneself and an open mind to whatever thoughts creep in. 

On one of these trips across the desert, I was completely taken by the scene spread before me. The mountains were bathed in a glorious purple light - snow-clad mountains oozing purple. I have to admit that purple mountain majesty came to mind. I couldn't take my eyes from them. The soft glow of sunset stretched from West to East where everything was set on purple fire. As the sun crept low in the western sky, the light show ended as if fading into nothingness and finally utter darkness.  

Purple is a Great Color for Mountains

Jagged peaks covered in snow lay before me.
The sun setting in the west, ruby and tangerine,
transformed to grape and cobalt in the east.

How could the mountains be made of purple ice?
When dull grey valleys lost in twilight 
spread as a backdrop wide as curtains-
that I now drove imperceptibly through. 

My mind raced forward to get a better view.
The colors seemed to fade like my scrambled thoughts.
Was it real or just imagined?
I retraced my mental journey and reveled 
in the quiet of falling darkness.

No one to interrupt, no traffic to distract
- only peace. No fear could present itself.
Not even a loud thought could penetrate
the wonder of this ever-changing scene.

Deep and powerful the rows of crags 
illuminated in ever-changing color, 
like LED lights spreading through diffused clouds.
My wandering senses tried to comprehend
that these illusions of reality existed.

Groundhogs Day in the Desert

Can you imagine it? Groundhogs day so important to PUNXSUTAWNEY PHIL is hardly a day to announce here- being that we don't have groundhogs. Oh, but that is not exactly the truth. We have the most incredible  burrowing "hogs" of all. They are like some kind of cartoon super villains boring through the yard. One moment you walk outside and see a 3 inch hole in the ground and a few minutes later walking over the same exact spot you will find no trace of the excavation. Is this an illusion, or is it a super-powered digger? We have tried to catch a glimpse of this furry friend, but to no avail. Next thing you know there is a giant mound of earth piled up in the same place. This is made even more impressive because the ground being dug is largely a deep pile of rocks cemented together by impermeable clay. 

As it has become an obsession to find the culprit. We are becoming super sleuths as a family. What is the identity of this mysterious intra-terrestrial visitor? After months of careful observations of his rocky home. We have found him flashing across the ground and darting under the shed. He seems to be a faintly striped rodent. When found in groups they seem to always be in a hurry having fun- dashing about playing hide-n-seek, jumping and rolling over each other. Is it a chipmunk? No, too large and too chunky. Maybe a pocket gopher? No, they don't have stripes and seldom come out in the daytime. Our friend is obviously a lover of the ground. Our guess then a "ground squirrel", but what kind?

Through a search of the internet, the purveyor of all truth. We have discovered that our miner is an Antelope squirrel. A cute, chubby version of a chipmunk. If only I could harness his power and use it at planting time. It would be a task easily done. 

Knowing this creature lurks beneath our house and shed tells me he seems to own the place. Now if we could only get him to cleanup after himself. He would be a welcomed guest. So will there be six more weeks of winter? I can't seem to find "Partoun Pete" to ask him. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. By summer I'm sure we'll know the answer.