It's Yellow in the Desert

I'd been to Tucson in the 1980's, staying for a weekend at Canyon Ranch with TBG.  We exercised and spa'ed and ate ourselves silly.  We bicycled on paved road to Loew's Ventana Canyon resort, where we drank fruity slushies - which now we'd call smoothies - before we trekked back on the pavement to our other manicured home away from home.  If we were in the desert, we certainly didn't know it.

When we flew to Phoenix 6 years ago this week, we were definitely in the desert.  The ride to our hotel took us past perfectly landscaped highways, meticulously maintained and sparsely planted with the weirdest looking cacti I'd ever seen.  Who knew that cacti bloomed?  Not I. Who knew that those flowers were red and yellow and white and coral and peach and burgundy?  Definitely not I.

Today, I live in the desert and have grown to appreciate the yellow season.  Only in Tucson would folks roll down their car windows when the temperatures were in the mid-90's.  Those of us afflicted with allergies arrive at our destinations bleary eyed and congested, filled with pollen and beauty.

These are night-blooming cereus, a yellow variety of trichocereus.  They open at night and surprise me on my way to yoga at 8 in the morning.

They close up and die as the sun rises. 

There are more buds all around it; I have many more mornings of delight to come.

The golden barrel cactus, echinocactus, is also getting ready to bloom.

This one came from Acacia Nursery, where Roby puts his Masters in Landscape Architecture to good use.  He's created a museum in the desert, where the exhibits are all for sale.  Elizibeth and I strolled the grounds and pointed; Roby pulled them out of the ground and onto the garden cart.

I have no doubt that my cacti are locally sourced.

The flowers are kind of inconsequential,

but they make a nice counterpoint to the dusting of palo verde and acacia and mesquite blossoms

covering the rocky ground cover. 
I thought someone had left a yellow towel on the driveway.  It was pollen.

The pieces which have not been inhaled have landed in my yard, in my garden, on the paths.

It's much prettier on the tree itself.

That's the front yard at midday. 

It is extremely yellow.

Although my favorite part is the shadow.

With 350 days of sunshine each year, a little bit of shade is always welcome.

There aren't any tulips or daffodils announcing Spring.

Somehow, that matters less to me as time goes by.