South Mountain Flowering
Feb. 24th, 2008 01:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rebeccmeisterWildflower season has arrived over the past week and a half. The plentiful winter rains (in comparison to last year's dry, dusty, desperate drought) have covered the desert with a carpeting of green grass and flowers. Part of me thinks, this is the birthing of the fire season. This is but the re-filling of over-emptied river beds and waterways. Another part of me thinks, now we have evidence of the invasive seeds that have been lying in wait in seed banks before they briefly flourish and die again. Combating invasive plants here means something other than pulling weeds (when it comes to combat).
But another part of me thinks, look, oh, look at the carpeting of green, the green bright green mountainsides and hills, the delicate flowers all purply and orange and yellow. The burst of growth is short-lived but highlights the changing seasons here.
As we rode our bicycles through and up South Mountain this morning, the dusty, pale green cacti shared space with the wildflowers, the cactus spines bristling stiffly among soft petals. Hillsides alternated between fresh green and shocking yellow (that's how thick the flowers are--the hillsides are painted bright YELLOW).
It rained earlier in the week, and the air was so clear we could breathe deeply and see out to Picacho Peak (2/3 to Tucson), and even out to the Catalina Mountains around Tucson. As we stood at the top of South Mountain and looked north and south, east and west, I remembered what it's like to stand up at Sunrise on Mt. Rainier, with vistas in all directions. Mountain climbers proclaim clarity on mountaintops; we are so fortunate to have mountaintops within our human-powered reach in the midst of the flat, urban landscape.
The summer heat and sickly hot, dry air will come soon, replacing the re-awakened chatter of the birds, replacing the peach blossoms and apple blossoms with fruits. But for now, oh glorious spring, the most hopeful of seasons.
But another part of me thinks, look, oh, look at the carpeting of green, the green bright green mountainsides and hills, the delicate flowers all purply and orange and yellow. The burst of growth is short-lived but highlights the changing seasons here.
As we rode our bicycles through and up South Mountain this morning, the dusty, pale green cacti shared space with the wildflowers, the cactus spines bristling stiffly among soft petals. Hillsides alternated between fresh green and shocking yellow (that's how thick the flowers are--the hillsides are painted bright YELLOW).
It rained earlier in the week, and the air was so clear we could breathe deeply and see out to Picacho Peak (2/3 to Tucson), and even out to the Catalina Mountains around Tucson. As we stood at the top of South Mountain and looked north and south, east and west, I remembered what it's like to stand up at Sunrise on Mt. Rainier, with vistas in all directions. Mountain climbers proclaim clarity on mountaintops; we are so fortunate to have mountaintops within our human-powered reach in the midst of the flat, urban landscape.
The summer heat and sickly hot, dry air will come soon, replacing the re-awakened chatter of the birds, replacing the peach blossoms and apple blossoms with fruits. But for now, oh glorious spring, the most hopeful of seasons.
