Simple Gifts

I took Lucas for a short walk a few nights ago. In that time we were given a sweet taste of some of the finest aspects of life in the desert. In brief:

At first steps we heard an owl. Then another, and another still. Their haunting calls echoed with decreasing volume from farther down the small valley where we live.

A small squadron of bats soon joined ranks with us, presumably following the gnats that followed us. They would be our escorts for the duration.

The backdrop was spectacular - an enormous lumbering giant of a monsoon stormed its way across the valley, from the east. It rose into an otherwise clear sky, rose as if to devour the waxing moon. From our position, it looked as it it just might do so. The setting sun illuminated the rain wall with soul pleasing hues, drawing to mind a deep pink gown on the expansive girth of the beast that destroyed prom.

A pack of coyotes began to yip and howl from a few hundred yards away. Thunder joined the chorus, and the 'yotes stepped up their frenzy.

We made a short loop, Lucas off leash. On the return we saw the Great Horned Owls again. Two together this time on the roof of a neighbor's house. They looked for all the world like winged house cats. The larger one hooted, the other mimicked, not quite in the same cadence. Lightning flashed from the flanks of the storm, as the cheeriness dissolved and the pink diminished, turning her dress a deep foreboding gray.

We returned home just as the first drops began to fall, heavy and noisy. The air was alive with anticipation of the coming deluge. We lingered on the street, just taking it all in and enjoying a few fat rain drops.

I love this place.