I spent today hiking the cactus-pricked mountains of southern Arizona beneath as unencumbered skies as I’ve ever seen. People from these parts called it a cold day. As I skirted clumps of prickly pear on the ascent, pulling off top layers, I thought about how hard it’s snowing at home across the tree-wrapped summits of Vermont, mountains that evoke comfort rather than inspiration. This landscape? I would take to these trails every cool day if I lived here, rising upward above the human-inhabited canyons to the rocky, dry mountaintops with the raptors, the mountain lions and the saguaro as company.
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