Behind every good man, yes, there is a woman. Or two….
When I was diagnosed with cancer January, 2015, I was in the process of getting ready for my first full year of focusing on photography. I had set up the year according to the photographic calendar: spring & summer for taking photos and traveling, camping through out southern Utah, building a better portfolio for shows and fairs. I have not come anywhere near that devotion since. Since cameras now come with phones and are at the ready, I have half-heartedly used my camera phone to see how that might work. Here’s one example.
If you’ve lost your way to this blog, you know I tend to the unusual and try to peak into the places between. To the extent I keep to that tack, this could billow those sails.
It also speaks to life’s never-ending march to settle into most unlikely places. Something for which all of us can be grateful for. In part because the struggle to make a home in whatever nook or cranny will serve, seems to produce some of the most beautiful forms in that long slow march forward.
Try as I might, these destructive activities just make no sense to me. Why?
I grew up in Tucson, 1975 – 2007. It was a place I fell in Love with, Love st first sight as it were! I became who I am, there. A huge part of that was hiking and camping, living out of the back of my old International Harvester in the foothills. Waking to doves cooing.
There are two Saguaro National Monuments in Tucson. One in the east in the
Rincon mountains. The other in the west, over the other side of the Tucson Mountains.
Though this is terrible, you can look out over the bajada and see the Saguaros on the march in the desert. We may see this as permanent, but their march through the desert attest to their patience. They have Time. All we can do it seems is fight time.
It’s a place I’ll always miss and crawl into when the world gets a bit out of kilter.