If Rock Moves, Don't Touch It

I have finally given myself over to a higher power – Barb Swartwoudt is now in charge – We are still in Arizona – in the Cottonwood, Jerome, Sedona area – touring the ruins left behind by the old ones – circa 1400. This started for me while hiking around Chaco last spring, in the state next door. It’s difficult for me to even imagine driving back and forth between states – these ruins prove that the ancients moved in straight lines between places – no side trips to get a burger and shop at really bad thrift stores – The bago was massaged and had all its little filters changed by real diesel mechanics – now all I need to do is use the turtle wax on the huge scratch that covers one whole side – poor bago.
One of my favorite times of day is dawn; the next is the walking all over creation. It’s that time of life when dreaming is allowed, exercise is tops and life depends on kindness of strangers and I’ve met many. They have aroused in me the range of emotions from pity to awe. An 88 year old woman told me when I was 25 that the search is never over – the feelings never change.

I have discovered that combing the desert for rocks is as much fun as beachcombing. As Auntie Anna once said, “I never met a rock I didn’t like.” I’ve seen baby desert turtles with faces that look like their ancestors. I hear coyotes all day long. Everywhere there are hundreds of white-crowned sparrows. Yesterday a prairie falcon flew by. A camp raven cooed at me so I left her an orange. Tall-eared jack rabbits out run Anna; Lucy digs for rats. The only river here is the Verte and it is tough shape. A man told me that they’ve measured one 67 year drought. We know the old ones traveled away from drought and war. Some things never change.

I’ve met a parrot who sings The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music. He is owned by an antique dealer. Remember….
The road we travel on
The eagle flies with the dove
If you can’t be with the one you love
Love the one you’re with
De de de de de de de de