I’m feeling very Arizona.
I’m also feeling inspired by my grandmother’s writing.
Right now, I’m stuck in my office and staring at a screen. But my mind keeps wandering back to these sights, sounds, and moments on the trail…
Powdery plumes of iron-rich, red dirt exploding with each step.
Green mountain slopes covered in a far-reaching thicket of prickly pear.
Mismatched socks of a 10-year-old hiker, eager to ditch her brothers to join me in the shade.
The grating sensation of my first blister…right between the toes.
Slippery, moss-covered rocks bombarded with the rushing creek.
My white toes peeking out from frigid water as I floated on my back.
A scream followed by our cackles when my friend poked a “dead” spider with a stick.
Distant masses of clouds threatening to pound the dirt with fat, violent raindrops.
A lone coyote trotting across a dry wash.
Sheets of torrential rain marring my visibility.
Flushed cheeks and matted hair of my overheated hiking companions.
A lovely mess of overlapping ancient petroglyphs carved into rock.
The constant buzz of whirring insects’ wings echoing off canyon walls.
Total solitude in a craggy, shaded canyon.
A swarm of insects hovering over the stagnant water trapped in a tinaja.
Toads the size of my thumbnail hopping out of the way.
…all this in just two days of hiking.