19 February 2011
San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico
It happens here that the seasons get confused in your head.
I imagine it is summer, but it is not.
At home the snow piles in banks as high as my shoulders.
But here, the red mountains glitter in a green sea,
and the pelicans drop cleanly into the water.
25 February 2011
San Juanico, Baja California Sur, Mexico
Still, it is cold here.
Nights drop below 10 degrees C and we huddle in the cockpit beneath blankets, marveling at the stars. It will snow today on the California coast, and tomorrow on Tucson; on Sunday, here in the Baja, we will reap a harvest of wind and more cool air. Then, next week perhaps, warm. Strange to walk in the desert unparched, feet, head and arms cool.
The air smells of sage and bitter oranges, the buzzards circle overhead, cacti twist and spread, but the earth is cracked and broken, the ocotillo clatter into the sky, leafless, the whole plant forcing just a single scarlet bloom. This, or death.
Cholla lose their bark, shells sink in the dirt, the grasses are bleached yellow and grey.
Even the water is cloudy, the birds scarce; for the moment a hard season here.
But the mountains remain, their peaks and cutaway faces shifting colour in the light: grey, yellow, rose, ochre, green, sanguine, blue, violet, black.
Bougainvillea blooms, pigeons on a wire--San Carlos, Sonora
Moon sets above reddening mountain, early morning, Bahia San Carlos, Sonora
Quoddy's Run in Bahia San Juanico, Baja California Sur
Scrub growing on the lowlands, La Ramada, BCS
Desert track into the mountains near Bahia San Juanico
Ocotillo branch scrapes the sky near Bahia San Juanico
Buzzard in flight
Dried grasses, La Ramada
Cactus covered peak near oasis, Bahia San Juanico
Rocks bordering northern anchorage at sunset, Bahia San Juanico