Back to blog

She walked into her desert study across the patio to take up the daily task of writing. Her book spoke to the diametric magic of the Sonoran Desert – saguaros blooming in the cold desert spring, night sounds of a coyote pack jubilantly cornering prey, thunder clouds that roar over to turn a dry gulch into a raging river. These intimate opposites defined the land – they defined her.

Crossing the threshold, she saw a baby rattler, curled and asleep in the small patch of morning sun that poured through the thin pane of glass.

“Good morning, sweet girl,” she whispered, as she sat down at her desk. “Let’s make a day of it.”