soaking up the sun while I still can

Well, here I am in Tucson, AZ visiting my aunt Casey and uncle Punch. They live in a beautiful house out in the desert beneath the shadow of Catback Mountain and bordering Saguaro National Park. I arrived here on Saturday after moving out of the dorm Thursday and staying the night with friends Jock and Robin Whitworth in Hurricane and driving 8 hours or so the next morning to Payson, AZ where I stayed with my friend Rayne and his family. Got to hike around some really cool rocks that evening and drive off the road to spot elk with the headlights and got stuck. Woke up Saturday morning and drove 4 more hours or so on to Tucson. It was amazingly familiar. As soon as I got off the main highway, it was like reliving a dream and I floated on wheels out to the desert where the sky grew and the cactus gathered around my car.

I love how the desert sky becomes so geometrically artful within the framework of the ocotillo. It's odd because I can't describe what happens when the red clouds dance behind the tall cactus arms, but something powerful takes place. The scenery doesn't change. I do. My perception of it all finds an emotion and runs away with it. I love the feeling it brings me. I want to run and curl up in a safe ball all at once. The ocotillo and the saguaro join together stretching their arms upward and celebrate the evening sky and I am reminded of how small I am. I wish to join them, but I don't begin to fit in. They are beautiful desert giants. I am small and simple and I have to force my mind to take notice of the glories around me.

I have always known that I am made alive in the desert. The sun melts my skin to bronze and I can sit for hours watching the colors of my legs dance with the oranges and reds of the desert dust. They know they are meant to be together. And the meeting of color and the sun's rays sending flashes of light across my eyes fills me with simple desert delights. I find my strength here, my joy, my energy.

But I miss Zion. How odd it is to walk this desert road and find the subject of wonder is the sky rather than the towering red rocks. I took a nap out in the sun the other afternoon and when I woke up at 5 to feel the sun's rays still burning on my cheeks, I remembered that in Zion the sun would have already set. I miss the red rock cliffs. I miss the constant whisper of the Virgin River. I miss waking up each morning to watch the blood red sunlight drip down the Altar of Sacrifice outside my bedroom window. Some mornings when I'd have to go to work early I'd complain that I was waking up before the rocks did. As I walked out to my car, though, I'd turn around to see the Towers of the Virgin finally rising from slumber, peeking into the sunrise light like a blanket slowly pulled from its face. The sunlight in the canyon was brief and I learned to appreciate every second the canyon gave me. At night, I lifted my eyes to view the window of stars and watched the Milky Way slowly appear as a diagonal curtain over the dark sky. The moon would then rise over the cliff and gave the rocks a second chance to shine again and then they'd shoot off colors- reds! yellows! oranges! greens! glow-in-the-dark whites!

Loving Tucson. Missing Zion. Craving to be back in Ohio. What in the world do I want...

By the way... my brother called today from home. A new baby boy, James Carter Neff, came today. I am finally an Aunt. Casey says I should be called Tia. I like that better than "aunt Juli." That just sounds old. I'm not old. So excited to drive home this friday with my parents!