red rock canyon & some ponderings   24 comments

Joshua tree in front of red cliffs along the Hagen Trail at Red Rock Canyon State Park

After my last post on the end of amnesia, dated January 31st, one might well be wondering if I’d regained my memory only to forget that I still have a blog. Over the past four weeks, I’ve thought about the blog and have tried to round up photos and write something, but with little success. Maybe we can blame this on me being preoccupied with matters to do with the future. After all, in about four more weeks, it will be time to pack up for the long trip back to eastern Canada. My only as-yet-vague plan is to return to southeast Arizona next winter after a season spent doing something up north. Just what that might be remains a little up in the air, but perhaps things are finally coming together (more on this below).

At times, I get annoyed at myself for not being able to figure out how (and sometimes even why) to carry on without Don. But then I recall that it’s not really my fault for not having the foresight to guess that, at this particular point in my life, instead of putting our retirement game plan into effect, I’d be pondering what to do now that everything has been vaporized by the events of the past couple of years. In retrospect, I probably did well just to get the farm sold, our belongings moved into storage, and get the dogs and me down here last autumn. However, now it’s time to start figuring out the what-comes-next part — which isn’t nearly as easy as some might suppose.

I’ll be the first to admit that it’s difficult to work up much of an interest in a future without Don. Our plan had been that he would retire (at what would have been about a year ago), get the farm ready to sell and put it on the market, and then look for a place a little off the beaten track in some part of Nova Scotia. When Sabrina and I arrived home last spring, I decided to proceed with that plan and worked hard to get the farm sold, dispose of or move belongings into a storage locker, then look for a place in Nova Scotia. The first couple of gargantuan steps were accomplished by autumn. However, by the time the deal was closed and the last of our stuff jammed into the locker, I was feeling very weary and unsure of the moving-to-Nova-Scotia part of the plan. Did I really want to move there alone? Would it feel weird to go there without Don?

Last summer, during spare moments when I wasn’t busting my can to get the house ready to sell, I pondered over my motives for moving. Was some part of my subconscious hoping to find the right place in the hope that Don would reappear — a sort of Field of Dreams if-you-build-it-he-will-come cargo cult strategy? It didn’t take long to realize that this was definitely behind last summer’s frantic scramble to sell the farm and race to Nova Scotia to look at property. Scary how the mind works, isn’t it? However, as luck would have it, there were plenty of glitches in the house-selling process, so things didn’t proceed at quite the anticipated pace. I could not really leave to go looking for a new place until September. By then, I had lost much of my momentum. It would soon be time to muster the last of my remaining energy and hit the road for Arizona. Fortunately, I did not move us to Nova Scotia for the wrong reason last autumn. Instead, I wrapped things up in eastern Ontario and we headed west – Sabrina, me, and our new addition, Sage.

Red Rock Canyon State Park campground – note the uniform pitch of the layers of tilted rock in these formations

Fast forward to this February. The time to depart from Arizona draws nigh. Once more, I ponder our future. What are the dogs and I to do once we cross back into Canada? Should we spend spring-through-autumn tripping around camping? Is it too soon to look for a place and try to settle down for awhile?

After much contemplation, I’ve arrived at something of a decision. We need some kind of base camp back in Canada. A place where we can relax and feel “this is home” for at least a part of the year. Somewhere to put in a vegetable garden and work on projects. A landing spot where we can crash when needed, and stash a few cherished belongings — the stuff now buried in a storage locker in eastern Ontario. A location out of which I may be able to pick up where I left off with my mothballed photography and writing business. I’ve had a couple of wonderful and generous offers to keep a trailer or build a little shed on friends’ farms. As well, there’s an invite to accompany good friends as they conduct their 30 Years Later natural history survey this year – and I may well join them for part of the season. However, my most pressing goal is to search for a place that suits our purpose (the dogs and me).

Although I have tried to keep a very open mind to place, my instincts tell me to go east – east to Nova Scotia. Perhaps that will be a mistake. Perhaps my subconscious is still struggling to weave its own peculiar design. But maybe its rationale is as good as any. The simple truth is that I don’t know what’s right or best, and there’s no living person who knows anything more than me. However, that’s okay as I’m really not much concerned. At this point, I don’t worry much about the future. After all that has happened over the past few years, I’ve learned that there is nothing magical about the future. It’s a fleeting, undependable and untrustworthy thing that I don’t really believe in anymore. Now, about the only thing I trust is that my instincts are making the best choices for the three of us at any rapidly approaching point in time. Experience has proven that’s all I can depend on — and so it is that I’m in the process of looking for a place in Nova Scotia — a new home base to set a course for on our eastward journey. Enquiries about several properties have been made – mainly tracts of land near the ocean with project houses in various states of preservation (or lack of). Finding a place will not be difficult. I’m not looking for perfection. All we need is a haven where we will hang our hats for awhile until the next course change. After all, life is a lot like sailing – tacking one line, then quickly coming about onto a new heading as the shifting winds of time play their tricks. I’ll post updates on the search for a new place as they occur.

our campsite in front of the cliffs at Red Rock Canyon

Now, about the photos in this post. In November, I stayed at Red Rock Canyon State Park on two occasions. The first time, I visited with a photographer friend. The second time, I stopped to rest for a few days after making a long loop back up through California, to the Oregon Coast, and then back south on my way to Arizona. I’ll get to the why behind that part of the trip in an upcoming post. For now, I just wanted to write a little about Red Rock. The first stay was one of those happy accidents that sometimes occurs when you’re trying to pick your next campground based on its name or a brief description. My road atlas described Red Rock Canyon S.P. as a park with interesting red rock formations. We pulled into the campground in late afternoon only to find that the formations far exceeded interesting.

Red Cliffs formation at Red Rock Canyon State Park

By another bit of serendipity, we arrived at the beginning of an annual fossil collecting field trip which is held by the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County. The leader was Dr. David Whistler, a vertebrate paleontologist who has been studying and working at Red Rock Canyon for fifty years. A group from the NHMLA was camped just down from our site. During the daytime, they went out on collecting and study forays. On the Saturday evening, we attended the slide presentation given by Dr. Whistler, at the park’s visitor center. The diversity of creatures found in this region is astounding. To quote from an article written by Dr. Whistler for Terra Magazine (Fall 1982), this is a list of what had been found there by that time. Since then, the list has grown considerably.

Water-loving animals including frogs, toads, three kinds of salamanders, a pond turtle, an extinct goose, an otter and a small species of beaver…. long-legged running animals like two different rhinos, ten species of horse, four kinds of camels and three prong buck antelope species suggest open plains. Two elephant-like gomphotheres, a vulture, two large land tortoises, a pika, two ground squirrel species, and deer mice and rabbits also frequented this habitat. Brush-loving animals are represented by two oreodonts (extinct sheep-like animals), a peccary, a three-toed browsing horse, a short-legged camel, a ringtailed cat, a small skunk, two weasel-like animals, a wolverine, two foxes, four distinctly different spiny lizards, a night lizard, rosey boa and racer snakes, a hedgehog, a chipmunk, two gopher-like rodents, two different pocket mice, a bat, and at least three small perching birds. A mole, four different shrews, a small, rear- fanged snake and two alligator lizards …. Six different species of dog, a very large bear-like animal and three large cats including a sabretooth….

This region is unique for its many clearly defined layers of strata in which fossils were deposited as if within a meticulously ordered time vault. Fossils found at this site have been used to create a sort of timeline against which similar fossils from other regions may be compared and correlated. It’s fascinating stuff. You don’t have to be a paleontologist to appreciate the significance of this geology, with its many examples of stratified columns and uniformly tilted formations. One can easily see that they’re walking about in what may best be described as an immense laboratory. But Red Rock is not entirely about the past. It’s also a living landscape of plants and creatures. At night, the profiles and shadows of the park’s many Joshua Trees move like wild dancers against the flickering light of campfires. By day, curious Cactus Wrens perch on vehicle roof racks as they survey your campsite, while Ravens swoop, soar, and occasionally descend from the towering backdrop of sandstone cliffs. In the evening, the shrill chittering of Chimney Swifts echoes from the canyon walls as they circle and dive, entering and leaving rock cavities in the upper rim.

Sage watching while I cook our dinner

On my second visit, I spent several nights almost alone in the canyon. I’d cook our dinner, then we would sit or lie about, watching the sky show. By luck, we were passing through this area at the same time as the peak of the Leonids. The dogs and I stayed long enough to rest and continue our exploration of the area until one morning when the campground began to fill up in advance of the weekend. I decided to break camp and within the hour, we were packed up and on the road, making our way onward to southeast Arizona.

Sabrina and Sage catching up on some sleep inside our van

Written by bev on February 27th, 2010

24 Responses to 'red rock canyon & some ponderings'

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  1. what beautiful photos Bev. I grew up 20 minutes from RRC, and have so many fond memories of time spent there. It wasn’t a designated state park then, and I’m glad to see this special place has been preserved and hopefully protected.
    I trust that your instincts and inner voice will continue to lead you in the right direction on your journey and my thoughts and best wishes always go with you.

    Cindy

    27 Feb 10 at 2:49 pm

  2. Bev, I’m glad you’ve made some decisions, albeit decisions you may change. You’re absolutely right about the future: “It’s a fleeting, undependable and untrustworthy thing…” One’s only logical choice, then, is to live for what’s best now. I hope Nova Scotia is best for you now…and if you decide it’s not, move on.

    John

    27 Feb 10 at 5:24 pm

  3. Are the Chimney Swifts or Vaux’s Swifts?

    fred

    27 Feb 10 at 8:30 pm

  4. Cindy – Thanks! It sure is a neat area. I can imagine that you visited the cliffs often.

    John – I’m pretty sure about Nova Scotia — and as you say, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll just move on. That’s one thing I’ve learned about life and that’s to not to try to hang onto things when it doesn’t feel just right.

    Fred – I’m just looking in my western field guide and see that Chimney Swifts aren’t usually found so far to the west. I’m not sure about Vaux’s either though — looks like their range isn’t right either. Looks like the White-throated Swift is most likely as far as territory and that they nest in high cliffs. This book says Vaux’s prefer hollow trees. I’ll have to see if I can find some info on them.

    bev

    27 Feb 10 at 8:55 pm

  5. “Perhaps my subconscious is still struggling to weave its own peculiar design. But maybe its rationale is as good as any.”

    “Now, about the only thing I trust is that my instincts are making the best choices for the three of us at any rapidly approaching point in time.”

    Good to read these words about trusting your instincts and making a decision that feels right for now for you and for Sabrina and Sage. I’m reminded again that Georgia O’Keeffe was drawn to Nova Scotia as well as the American Southwest.

    I’ll remember to visit Red Rock Canyon Park if I ever get down that way again. Wow!!

    Sabrina and Sage are sweet and lovely as they sleep and dream their dog dreams.

    Kind wishes,
    am

    am

    27 Feb 10 at 9:56 pm

  6. Well, I’m not very much good at explaining my own decisions, much less those of those who have undergone so much more traumatic change than I have. Your choice of the Southwest US as a winter ground has been a strong and persistent one. The beautiful photos are like nothing else – they’re both quiet and private and stark and lonely all at the same time. We both know there’s plenty of life there, though.

    I love the photo of the campsite at Red Rock Canyon. I’m glad you’ve got Sage and Sabrina along!

    Wayne

    28 Feb 10 at 7:57 am

  7. As Wayne says, the photos are quiet and private and stark and lonely all at the same time. And the last one of Sabrina and Sage sleeping is so beautiful, so touching. Expressing something about your heart as you see them. Your family.

    I think maybe we’re all on the same journey except you know more deeply what is expected of us, because we will all lose the ones we love, or they will lose us. Even now, as we wonder about buying the house up the road, I lay awake at night thinking about what I would do if Roger were no longer here. Would I stay? Would I buy this house? Can we make any plans without some reckoning that everything can and will change? Life really is only one step in front of the other, with both mistakes and magic. Sometimes I think the best we can hope for is a calm sense that we’ve done the best we can do. And I know, Bev, that is precisely what you do.

    robin andrea

    28 Feb 10 at 5:58 pm

  8. I don’t know exactly how I stumbled into your blog, and I felt as though I was eavesdropping. But eavesdropping on a resilient and engaging mind. It’s probably presumptuous to comment further, but it sounds as though you do a minimum of stumbling, yourself, are headed in a good direction by a path that will make sense in retrospect, and are fortunate enough to have had someone to mourn.

    As far as amnesia goes, I think we just get tidier as we get older. And you had to move the furniture in your brain to make room for an unwelcome guest. Now most of it can come back. I wish you well.

    Murr Brewster

    1 Mar 10 at 2:45 am

  9. am – Do try to visit Red Rock Canyon if you’re back in southern California sometime. The campgrounds would probably be busy most weekends or holidays, but it’s quite a large park with a number of trails, so it is easy enough to find places to explore.
    Interesting about Georgia O’keeffe spending time in both the southwest and the northeast. Although they differ greatly, the ocean and the desert also share certain similarities and offer a kind of solitude that it is difficult to find elsewhere.

    Wayne – You’ve described these places so well — quiet and private and stark and lonely all at the same time. Yes, that is just how it is. I’m glad to have Sabrina and Sage along. It would feel quite different to spend time in the kind of places that I go if I were totally alone. Both dogs are very quiet and interactive, so it’s like being with two quiet friends who are just enjoying being int he moment.

    robin – I do think of my dogs as my family, and they probably think of me in a similar way. We are not so much “owner with dogs” as much as “three fellow adventurers” – or at least, that’s how it seems.
    I agree, yes, we’re all on the same journey. When things are going well, it’s an easy thing to overlook the reality that most of us will end up alone at some point – and how do we make certain decisions, knowing that will be the case? For myself, I try to make decisions based on the reality that I am alone and may well continue on alone for the duration. Others would choose to do things very differently. I’m a loner and choose to carry on that way without allowing the fact to become a limitation. It’s complicated stuff — more so than most people realize until they are in a similar position. It requires knowing a good deal about who you are.

    Murr – I’m glad that you found your way to my blog. I have now visited over at yours and found plenty of good writing there.
    You’re right – I don’t stumble too often in my life. That’s probably a good thing as it’s been pretty challenging and difficult over the past few years. I agree about the amnesia — there’s just so much room in the brain and at times, you just have to accept that you can’t contain everything, especially when your grain is working overtime. I look forward to a time when things are a little less stressful and I can let my mind wander and be its creative old self. Maybe that will happen once we have a home base again.

    bev

    2 Mar 10 at 10:11 am

  10. Love the picture of the girls sleeping. So peaceful and lovely. You might want to just rent a small house in Nova Scotia and see if it fits your life as it is now. Ths struggle to rebuild a life without Don will probably continue to be hard. I cannot imagine life without my own hubby, but sometimes I try to imagine it, as to somewhat prepare myself for that ,due to the fact my hubby has many health problems. It scares the daylights out of me. He is my best friend and the person I talk to about the important stuff. Your soulmate is always with you in spirit but it can be so lonely wanting them in the flesh.
    I admire you so much for many reasons. You are incredibly strong and brave to me.
    *hugs*

    Cherie

    2 Mar 10 at 10:12 am

  11. Cherie – Thanks so much for this comment. I suspect that most of us have pondered a bit over how it would be to carry on alone. In my own case, I never dreamed that I would outlive Don as everyone in his family seemed to live to be in their eighties or more, and he was in such terrific health. Imagining life alone is different than living it – just for the reasons you’ve mentioned – because your husband is your best friend and the person you talk to about those important things that you can’t talk about with anyone else. I find that to be one of the hardest parts of being alone – not having that person. Also, in many ways, we see ourselves through the mirror of that other person’s eyes. When that person is gone, we have a harder time seeing ourselves. It’s all very strange and difficult to deal with – but there’s no choice in the matter when something unfortunate happens to our partners. My feelings are shared by so many fellow bloggers who have lost their partners, so I know I am not alone with these thoughts. It takes a lot of courage to keep going. Regarding Nova Scotia, I did think about renting for awhile, and it definitely has its appeal. I guess that, after renting here in the south for a couple of winters, I’m feeling the need for something that feels more “ours” – where we can dig up things, work on a house, or whatever. The good thing is that housing prices are low and much less than the area where my old farm was located — which is good — it helps me feel that there I’m not risking too much to go forward with this plan. If worse comes to worse and I don’t like it there, I will not have risked too much. Hopefully, it will actually turn out to be an interesting adventure – perhaps not fun in the usual sense, but I love to build and fix things up, so it will satisfy the part of me that longs to dig in and work on something challenging. (-:

    bev

    2 Mar 10 at 10:24 am

  12. We humans, especially those of us who consider ourselves rational (like scientists like to think), sometimes fool ourselves into thinking that all of our personal decisions are the product of a long, considered, logical thought process. In fact, I have come to believe, the decisions are made at a level below the conscious and we spend some of our conscious effort rationalizing them. Which is to say, trusting your instinct is a good idea. At some level, you have made your decision, even if you don’t know how or when, and even if you don’t know the reasons. But you do have reasons.

    And even if it turns out not to be what you expect (at some level in your brain), so what? You make the best decision you can based on the information you have, and you go with it. If you have to change later, you do it. I can almost guarantee that the dogs won’t hold it against you.

    Mark

    2 Mar 10 at 1:07 pm

  13. Hi Bev.

    I can so relate to everything to write about here. I was just saying to my therapist today that I feel like there is no reward for a hard days work. No matter what I do, Michael will not be there. I talked about how Michael and I had so many dreams and goals for the future. When he was diagnosed we had to let go of our dreams and plans for the ture. Now that he is gone I’m am also not sure what to want. The things that we wanted together no longer apply. We had talked of moving out of the city, and getting a home somewhere in the Bay Area where we could have some land. We dreamed of growing old together in our home, and spending a lot of time gardening. We often would try to envision us as old men sitting on the porch after a long day of satisfying work. Now that he is gone that plan is not feasible. I’m not even sure if that is what I want for myself.

    I too am having to figure out if the shared dreams are still important to me. One of the main directions that my life is going is being part of the widowed community. My blog writing is already creating some new opportunities for me, and I find myself moving in a whole new direction with my life. The irony is that I may not have started writing at all if Michael didn’t get sick, or if he hadn’t died. Suddenly I find myself with a creative outlet, and it is giving me a whole new passion and direction.

    I love reading about your travels, and especially loved reading about your process in choosing to move forward with your planned move. Your ‘Field of Dreams’ reference is perfect. It would appear that I am going in the opposite direction, as I am choosing to move toward a future that I never would have considered if Michael was still here. At the same time I realize that I am so new in my grieving process, and I could easily move back toward our original plan as well.

    Dan

    3 Mar 10 at 2:06 am

  14. Mark – I believe you are so right in thinking that decisions are made as a level that is below the conscious and that we then find a way to rationalize them with “reason”. When I look back at the choices I’ve made based on instinct, it appears that I’ve done the best thing most times. When I try too hard to find good hard reasons for doing something, it seems those decisions haven’t been so good. I come back to believing that, somehow, I just know when something is right or best — or conversely, isn’t a good idea – but that I often can’t express the “why” behind my decisions at the time. I just have to trust myself and that seems to be getting easier lately. You’re right – the dogs will not hold any mistakes against me. They seem to be my willing accomplices in almost every adventure.

    Dan – I think that one of the hardest things for all of us to get past is that we lose a big part of our futures along with the loss of our partners. I’m pretty sure that this is something that many people don’t consider when they become impatient with us for not “getting over” our losses more quickly. For all of us, our realities are forever changed when we lose our partners. We often lose direction, purpose, and even our identity as we are no longer the partner of someone who was always there for us. In place of that, we are left sad, confused, lost, angry, aimless. It takes time to pick up the pieces — a lot more time than most people realize. I think you’re right — we have to figure out if the shared dreams we had “before” are still important, practical, feasible, when we are left to carry on alone. Sometimes, everything is changed and we have to abandon our former plans. That can be painful and difficult. But again, you’re right in saying that we may find ourselves moving in a new direction – perhaps one that is totally unexpected, such as your writing — and it is wonderful, so please do continue with it. I’ve noticed how your writing seems to be growing day by day. Thanks for leaving this comment today. Take care, bev.

    bev

    3 Mar 10 at 12:17 pm

  15. Hi Bev,

    Like all the others who follow your blog, I’m moved by your brave accounting of the journey through grief and your sharing the ordeal of moving forward.

    When you said this in reply to Dan:

    “this is something that many people don’t consider when they become impatient with us for not “getting over” our losses more quickly . . .”

    . . . . it reminded me of an encounter with an acquaintance who was grousing about a woman he knew from church who “months after the death of a loved one was STILL grieving . . .

    At that moment I wrote him off as someone I did not want as a “friend”.

    His lack of compassion still galls me.

    The pictures of Sabrina and Sage made me smile. I so miss my dogs and do not feel foolish in acknowledging that I still grieve them.

    I will be following your progress as spring nudges you north.

    Cathy

    Cathy Wilson

    3 Mar 10 at 4:21 pm

  16. Hi Cathy – It really is amazing how some people don’t understand much about grieving. I sometimes wonder whether it’s that they have been fortunate enough to not lose someone close to them, or whether it’s that they are lacking in compassion or empathy. I do think they are in the minority. That said, it isn’t until you lose someone very close that you begin to understand the many ways in which your life will be changed. Thanks for stopping by to visit and leave a note. Take care, bev

    bev

    3 Mar 10 at 6:27 pm

  17. Bev,

    I love these photos, especially the first one where the tiny flash of green right in the middle caught my eye. Sabrina and Sage are absolutely adorable gathering zzz’s.

    Everyone’s journey through grief is a different one, but you have the amazing ability to express yourself far better than most and that, perhaps, is part of your healing. There is no time frame for mourning a loved one, and I believe that grief never truly goes away but gradually diminishes to an a tender ache. People who lack sympathy and empathy are not the type of friends I want to have… one of the worst things anyone said to me was, “Just snap out of it”.

    Nova Scotia is a beautiful place to begin the next chapter in the book of your life. To me, the Maritimes have something for everyone and a lot of people who moved away to find work are now returning to their roots to enjoy their retirement. A friend of mine is actively looking for property in PEI (her husband wants to buy and live in one of the many churches up for sale), but I prefer the more rocky scenery of the Cape Breton/Cabot Trail area of Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland.

    Never enjoying city life, I am also looking for a new home. In a heartbeat, I would move to Newfoundland (where my novel takes place) if it weren’t for their violent winters. I absolutely love the people, the wild cliffs, the stormy ocean and the whales. I have to ask myself if I would want to leave my wonderful friends, but I am pretty much a loner and would no doubt be able to handle the distance between us. I must listen to the messages of my heart songs.

    Marni

    4 Mar 10 at 8:49 am

  18. Bev, we DO have to get through things in our own good way and our own good time. I think you will make all the right decisions for you and Sabrina and Sage, so no need to worry at all. (They do look adorable sleeping together by the way.) You will, all three of you, recognize the right home place for you when you see it, and that will be that.

    Would you believe it??? There is springtime in the air here at last, blue skies and maple sap running, sugar shacks cranked up, owls hooting in the woods. To be alive on such a day is a fine thing.

    Cate

    6 Mar 10 at 4:42 pm

  19. Marni – Sorry it has taken me awhile to reply. This has been a busy week for me. I think each of us has at least one heart’s home where we feel best. For me, those two places have always been the Ottawa Valley and the Bay of Fundy region of Nova Scotia. After two winters spent in southeast Arizona, I think that could be added to my “homes” list. For now, I find it too difficult to live in eastern Ontario. While I have good memories at hiking or canoeing at so many places, it feels too intense… too sad.. to go to those places now. I’m hoping that Nova Scotia will feel more like a new place to explore on my own with my dogs. I won’t really know until I go there, but it’s worth a try.

    Cate – We’re working on finding a place — perhaps have already found it. I’m just working out some details. I’ve been told by a few people back home that the weather is just about perfect for the maple sugar season! Take care, bev.

    bev

    10 Mar 10 at 3:08 pm

  20. I was at Red Rock years ago.
    Is the desert in bloom now?
    It snowed when I was there how’s that for luck? LOL. Every roof for a 100 miles was leaking and flash floods washing the roads away.
    Yeah it was great as silly as that sounds it was great we had a Ball.

    Bev if you can get down to New Mexico it will be a sight to behold at this time of year. The landscape changes everytime you turn your head.

    Wow it is beautiful there the mountains are different then our Rockies not better just vary different.

    Come and see us some time soon.

    PS:
    Maybe what you are looking for is not really all that far from Home!!

    Love you
    Garrie

    Garrie

    13 Mar 10 at 8:02 pm

  21. Garrie – Hi! Nice that you dropped by to visit! That’s funny about the snow – so often that kind of thing seems to happen when you’re traveling. Everyone tells you “this never normally happens” so it almost seems like you bring your weather with you. I may be through New Mexico on my way home. I haven’t picked a route yet — I’ll decide as I get closer to leaving depending on the forecast in different directions. I’ll be sure to see wildflowers somewhere though as it will be the right time of year for them here in Arizona too. As for where I will end up, I don’t want to say too much in case I jinx things, but it looks as though I may have bought a house in Nova Scotia. If all goes well, I should be out there by mid-April. Take care, love,bev

    bev

    14 Mar 10 at 10:56 am

  22. Bev, these images look like paintings to me. They are magnificent…

    Cate

    15 Mar 10 at 7:55 am

  23. Cate – Red Rock is a beautiful place. It’s hard to capture the feel of it in photographs, but I chose these shots because it seemed that they came as close as I managed. There is a painterly quality to the landscape there. Most of the rock formations are softly modeled by wind and weather, so very sculptural. What I should have written more about is the way the shadows play over the formations during the course of the day. Incredible!

    bev

    15 Mar 10 at 8:16 am

  24. […] mentioned in my last post, I had arrived at the decision to proceed with finding a place in Nova Scotia. In fact, Don and I […]

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