Hi fatties!

Just as I was about to  turn off the outside light and head to bed I heard a distinctive squeal and then a sound that only be described as a grunting oink. I called out the window, "Hi fatties' and then heard all sorts of scuffling as their little hooves raced over the sand, finally diving into the brush behind the hill. I didn't know Javelina's made these sorts of sounds so I was very surprised. Their reputation of not being pigs certainly doesn't follow when it comes to what I heard! In any case they devoured the seed block I'd put out only a few days before, hanging around long enough to eat some of the vegetable matter in the compost.

Meanwhile Buddha was going nuts. 'Can't I go out?' he panted, looking up at me with pleading eyes. 'No, Buddha. I don't what they'd do and besides, I like having them around.' Shortly after that I had to put my dog in the closet. He goes willingly when he can't control himself--all I have to say is 'closet' and in he goes.

The next night two of them came again, snuffling and huffing and again making very pig-like noises. They were smaller than the ones from last year and seemed more gray than brown and I wondered if they were fighting as siblings do.

This is the first javelina visit in many months and I was glad to see them--I'm planning to replace the seed block tomorrow. In the meantime the compost has a lot of delicious rotting lettuce and other wonderful delicacies to whet their appetites.

Fall is here with longer shadows and a sun that feels good on the skin instead of scorching. My walks have been taking me further afield and up into the canyons that lead toward the Catalina Mountains. I no longer have to get up at the crack of dawn to walk. this morning it was close to 8:00 before I left the house. And the nights have been cool, allowing us to shut off the air-conditioning. The fruit bats are still draining the hummingbird feeders every night but more than likely they'll be gone in another week or so. I don't remember them hanging around this long last year, but then again it seems as though the seasons are shifting.

I can't end this blog without mentioning the wonderful monsoons this year. There was no wild lightning, crazy wind or sideways rain, instead it was steady and soaking and there was a lot of it! Anyone living in the desert is excited by this and knows the satisfied feeling that comes after a good rain! This year our rains were enhanced by three hurricane turned tropical storm systems that came up from the Gulf of Mexico. But the funniest part about it was the weather predictions got it all completely wrong! The storm they predicted on the national news to be a gully washer turned out to be nothing  more than a fine mist! But the other two added a lot to our rain count.

This is the time to visit the Sonoran desert if you have any hankering to do so. It's more lush than usual, there are still flowers blooming, and the snowbirds have not yet returned!

Summer and monsoons

I haven't written for a while, I guess it's because I've been finishing up my desert story about a shape-shifting coyote! Those of you who enjoy this blog may also enjoy this story that is set here in the Sonoran desert.

 Summer has been very different this year, with less heat and less crazy storms. We've had some good rains but they've mostly come in a soft soaking manner instead of the wild winds that threw around our patio furniture last year. I have to say I've missed the lightning and thunder and the hurricane force winds that swirled around our house, but then again I think all the plants have been VERY happy with how much water they've soaked into their thirsty roots.

Every year we notice differences in what blooms and when, and the kinds of animals and birds who frequent our environs. This year the bats had been oddly absent. I have no idea why although I plan to look into it. The coyotes have yet to roam by with their babies. Still in their dens I suppose. Javelina haven't come to the compost in two months, or if they have, I haven't seen them. I hear the roadrunners and see them in our yard from time to time. I learned about their sad puppy sound when calling a mate and now I'm instantly aware of them. I have seen no snakes and oddly, I miss them. I've been  told that August is the month they are on the move. I've seen one Bufo toad this year--he was hiding under the lip of our house in a cool damp spot during the heat of the day. I fed him a black beetle. But the next day he had moved on.

Wildflowers are in full bloom after the rains, the desert poppies and the blue morning glories mingling to make a beautiful blue and orange patchwork behind our house. The two devil's claw plants that suddenly sprang up in our yard were eaten immediately by rabbits, but I have high hopes for another batch. I pick up their fragrance every so often when I'm hiking the trails behind our house.

I've been enjoying the solitude of this time of year, the lack of traffic and people. Yes, it's hot sometimes--too hot to walk if I don't get out early, but it's still magical. With the clouds the sunsets have been spectacular, and the warm mornings make it possible to sit outside with a cup of coffee in my P.J.'s. And the warm nights offer a time to view the stars. So far I haven't grown tired of the ever-changing light on the mountains, the shifting colors that drift slowly across the sky in the evening. Sometimes I feel like the beauty of what I'm seeing couldn't possibly be real!

Home is where the Javelinas are

We left Tucson for seven weeks this year--leaving like cowards when the weather became too hot. I forgive us though, after hearing about temps that stayed above 100* for over a month! (hopefully we are beyond that possibility now) In Portland we stayed in an RV park for five weeks, enjoying cooler temps and trips to the river where Buddha could swim. I have to  admit that when we left Tucson in June I thought seriously about moving back to Portland. Mostly this was due to feeling isolated here and Jim's asthma, the causes of which we still aren't clear about. It was only two weeks before the traffic, noise and bustle of the city began to grate on my nerves. I love having wonderful grocery stores and gourmet restaurants around every corner, but my inner peace had been shattered. We left Portland on July 24th, visiting family as we headed down the California coast. And as we traveled I realized why we moved here. The traffic was clogged everywhere we went--accidents, smog, and angry drivers in a hurry.

Our first week home was a delight, with cool temps, gray skies and the threat of rain. We haven't had much of a monsoon season this year from what I've heard. I hope there's still a chance for a good storm. Although we haven't seen them, the javelinas have been coming to the compost pile every night. Around dusk two nights ago I heard Buddha barking and barking up on the hill behind the house and when I called him and went to investigate, a javelina streaked across the state land on the other side of our road. Luckily the guy didn't want to tangle with Buddha.

Costas

The hummingbirds are fighting over the two feeders. I've seen several different varieties. The Costa's:

and the Broad tailed featured below, as well as Annas and another as yet unidentified one. The trouble is the females and males can look very different as well as being different sizes! Right now there seems to be a feeding frenzy going on.

The fruit bats who came last year to partake of the sugar water have been strangely absent. I miss their nightly forays, the dark shapes flying out from under the porch roof when I turned on the lights...also the smaller insect eating bats haven't been around. 

I have yet to hear the coyotes but I remember this from last year--I assume that they are raising their young and will take them out hunting when they're old enough. It makes me smile to hear their high-pitched yips when they run with the pack the first few times. 

Once again the peace of this place has entered my heart. I'm glad to be home.

weather whine or whether wine to take my mind off weather...

I'm beginning to understand the rush to leave the desert during the summer. I've been pretty good with it all, getting up at 5:30 to walk the dogs, coming back and doing my chores outside--filling feeders, throwing scratch on the ground for the quail and doves, a little bit of gardening in the front yard where we have shade until 11:00 or so. But the last three days have threatened rain--clouds building over the Catalina mountains, thunder rumbling enticingly in the distance, a tantalizing flash of lightning here and there...and then...nothing. The temps don't drop, we have no rain and soon the clouds have moved off to the west without a by-your-leave.

For some reason this teasing weather pattern has me cursing, a fist held up toward the over-bright orb shining down from the very blue sky. I hear distant laughter, as though the sun mocks me. I hole up in the house, unable to plant my vegetable garden or walk the property. Even hanging out clothes on the line has me covered in sweat. 'We need an umbrella!' I shout to my husband. My Fresno born mate is nonplussed.

And so I work on my writing, trying not to think about the tire that has appeared around my waist. The heat keeps me hard at work, I rationalize. I have a book to edit, I tell myself, what better time to do it?

But on a more positive note, we've now got a six foot Sagauro. He stands straight with a groundedness that I find astounding considering his short root system. Every morning I say hello, glad to have his peaceful company. He's like a sentinel, guarding and watching over our house.

And the front garden now contains several kinds of agave, a large one as a centerpiece. A three foot tall, deep green Mexican Fencepost has been planted against the pale wall of the house. Our next project will be the enclosed backyard that I'm afraid will have to wait until we have the money to hire a crew of professionals.

My disdain of the snow-birds has been replaced with plans to go to Portland next year for at least a month, if not more. I hate to miss the monsoons, however. They have been spectacular, dropping the temps and whipping through with the vengeance of an angry goddess. From what I've heard, this year has been a good one for rainfall. The grass and flowers flourish on the hill behind the house.

It is now the beginning of September and the average temps will be dropping. By early October it will be cool enough to hike during the day. I look forward to the coming months when the snakes hibernate and I can let the dogs run free again. I'm glad of our decision to remain through the summer, but I've experienced it now. Next summer will find us in cooler climes, at least for a portion of it!