A Southwest Christmas
Dec. 26th, 2004 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellarienThe short version is that I spent Christmas with friends in Phoenix, and it was very nice -- a low-key, old-fashioned Christmas not all that unlike the ones of my childhood, give or take some inessential details like food and decorations. There were some memorable differences, though.
On Friday afternoon we went for a hike in White Tanks Mountain Park. It was a beautiful afternoon, and the park, after last month's rain, was as green as I've ever seen it, with every bush full of tender leaves. I was reminded afresh of the peculiarly textured nature of the desert landscape, where every branch and cactus is ridged and dimpled and spined, every hillside studded with columns of saguaro and jagged with rocks. The winter afternoon light accentuated all that depth and detail. On the way back, I saw a three-armed saguaro on the skyline, its upper branches limned in silver glow against the blue sky as the light caught the spines.
A surprising number of people had had the same idea that afternoon -- including several young ladies in pretty mid-calf frocks -- so the wildlife was not much in evidence. We did hear the descending song of a canyon wren.
I'm afraid my knees will be paying for this for a while, but it was worth it.
Buddy is a three-year old burro --- a donkey who until a couple of months ago was running wild in the desert. Then he was rounded up by 'the government' (Bureau of Land Management, I think) and adopted out to my hosts. Now he lives in a small corral behind the garage, and is learning to wear a halter and walk on a lead rope. They're training him with chunks of carrot -- a couple of pieces to stand still for the halter, one (held in front of him en route) for being led once around the corral, and ad libitum for greeting and grooming purposes. So I got to feed him carrot, and brush him on one side, and lead him around a couple of times. He has amazingly prehensile lips, and a muzzle covered in thin curly whiskers, and bits in the top part of his face that go in and out as he chews, and he took all this with remarkable patience.
Luminarias are originally a Mexican custom, I think, though I hear they've spread as far as Massachussets by now. The basic idea is to take a brown paper sack and add a couple of inches of sand for weight and a tealight candle for light. Then you repeat the whole thing at intervals of a couple of feet, along the edge of the property or up the side of the path. It doesn't sound all that attractive, but they make a nice, gentle, browny-gold glow. And it was fun helping the boys to light the candles and set them out.
I came back on the shuttle this afternoon, tired and content with my suitcase full of presents, stopped off in the office to wait for the next bus, and checked my friendlist. And saw![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fivemack's post about the Indonesian earthquake, which was the first news I'd seen since Friday. Back to grim reality with a bump. I have this unreasonable feeling that news isn't supposed to happen at this time of year ...
On Friday afternoon we went for a hike in White Tanks Mountain Park. It was a beautiful afternoon, and the park, after last month's rain, was as green as I've ever seen it, with every bush full of tender leaves. I was reminded afresh of the peculiarly textured nature of the desert landscape, where every branch and cactus is ridged and dimpled and spined, every hillside studded with columns of saguaro and jagged with rocks. The winter afternoon light accentuated all that depth and detail. On the way back, I saw a three-armed saguaro on the skyline, its upper branches limned in silver glow against the blue sky as the light caught the spines.
A surprising number of people had had the same idea that afternoon -- including several young ladies in pretty mid-calf frocks -- so the wildlife was not much in evidence. We did hear the descending song of a canyon wren.
I'm afraid my knees will be paying for this for a while, but it was worth it.
Buddy is a three-year old burro --- a donkey who until a couple of months ago was running wild in the desert. Then he was rounded up by 'the government' (Bureau of Land Management, I think) and adopted out to my hosts. Now he lives in a small corral behind the garage, and is learning to wear a halter and walk on a lead rope. They're training him with chunks of carrot -- a couple of pieces to stand still for the halter, one (held in front of him en route) for being led once around the corral, and ad libitum for greeting and grooming purposes. So I got to feed him carrot, and brush him on one side, and lead him around a couple of times. He has amazingly prehensile lips, and a muzzle covered in thin curly whiskers, and bits in the top part of his face that go in and out as he chews, and he took all this with remarkable patience.
Luminarias are originally a Mexican custom, I think, though I hear they've spread as far as Massachussets by now. The basic idea is to take a brown paper sack and add a couple of inches of sand for weight and a tealight candle for light. Then you repeat the whole thing at intervals of a couple of feet, along the edge of the property or up the side of the path. It doesn't sound all that attractive, but they make a nice, gentle, browny-gold glow. And it was fun helping the boys to light the candles and set them out.
I came back on the shuttle this afternoon, tired and content with my suitcase full of presents, stopped off in the office to wait for the next bus, and checked my friendlist. And saw
fivemack's post about the Indonesian earthquake, which was the first news I'd seen since Friday. Back to grim reality with a bump. I have this unreasonable feeling that news isn't supposed to happen at this time of year ...