I feel like I’ve been rode hard and put up wet. I just got back from a hike in the Franklin Mountains. Sometimes I forget I’m old.
I love seeing the cholla cacti in bloom. Nothing can match that color.
El Paso is down there somewhere.
The trail turned out to be an avalanche that hasn’t quite finished avalanching. Big rocks and small boulders on the side of a slope that teetered and tumbled under my feet.
I never get tired of prickly pear blossoms. They catch my eye every time.
I was very surprised to see Indian paintbrushes in the Franklin Mountains of El Paso. I remember them as more of a coastal plains flower.
I was trying to get to a spring only three miles away, but uphill miles are a lot longer regular miles. Finally I had to admit I’d bitten off more than I could chew. Those rocks were a recipe for a broken leg or at minimum a sprained ankle and I was alone.
I might take another crack at it when I get a couple of those poles I’ve seen the spandex crowd use. I found a stick I could use as a cane and it made a huge difference.
Worn out as I am, I needed this. the modern world is too noisy for me. Some days I have to go to the desert. the thorny shrubs and cacti remind me how resilient life is. I can feel the wind on my face and hear myself think.
Late Boomer's Den 