Ramblings on Life in the Desert

There are clouds in the sky over Marana, storm clouds hovering over Safford Peak.... on one side anyway, as you can see. My little piece of the desert is sunny. Blue skies. A slight breeze. And very thirsty plant material gasping for nourishment. I'm doing the best I can with soaker hoses and long deep waterings in the mulch covered wells surrounding the newest acquisitions, but I just can't keep up. The poor crepe myrtle volunteer, usually so perky in the middle of the lantana, is a wilted, wasted remnant of its former vibrant self:

I have my portable rain-harvesting system all ready to go. All I need is the rain.

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The house next door has been all-but-empty for a year, waiting patiently for someone to buy it. So, when I drove by and saw the garage door standing open, and a young man carrying boxes out and into his truck, I called the Sheriff. I was just being a cautious neighbor. The dispatcher was friendly and reassured me that my call was totally appropriate. The officer who tracked me down on my cell phone during dinner wasn't aggravated that I couldn't describe the box carrying boy much beyond being slim in an orange t-shirt and a baseball cap, nor that I'd sent him on a wild goose chase since there was nobody there when he drove by. Not to worry, he'd keep an eye on it until he figured it out. In the end, he was quite complimentary, praising my willingness to get involved, thanking me for taking the time to make our area a safer place to live.

I was feeling pretty good about myself until we pulled into our driveway later that evening and saw, across our yard, a tableau we really hadn't expected: professional movers and a wholesome family of 5 obviously interrupted while carting their belongings into their new house by the Sheriff, who was standing, hands parked on his hips, legs akimbo, in their driveway.

I brought them "Welcome to the Neighborhood" brownies later that week. Somehow, the sheriff never came up in conversation.

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All the Hot and Spicy Bowlers had their own shoes today, and one of us even had her own bowling ball. At $2.15 it's the best deal in town - air conditioned exercise (believe me, my tossing muscles are talking to me big time) with good company and lots of free parking. Of course, this being Tucson, we never pay for parking except at the airport, where covered parking for our trip to The Windy City this weekend will be $2.95 a day, first day free.

There are lots of reasons to live here. That's just one of them.