Winter in the desert

Arizona's had the coldest February days on record this year. Two weeks ago we had days that didn't break 44º, with nighttime temps in the 20's. I know it's no blizzard, but for Phoenix that's pretty cold!

I used to say winter was my favorite season. I liked that it was the down season, the one that ended a year and then brought in the next, gave nature a pause, started the wheel turning all over again. (I also like sweaters and boots and stripy socks. Winter was just my thing.) But years in the tropics have changed me: my blood is thinner, my hands feel stiff, I can't seem to get warm. I was fine in jeans and a breezy blouse last summer when the mercury was hitting 115º, but I'm at a loss now when it's barely above freezing in the mornings and I'm supposed to get out from under the covers. Really, who wouldn't rather stay cozy and cocooned?

Today was warm, so perhaps the coldest days are behind us now. Chinese New Year marked the beginning of spring in Taiwan a couple weeks ago, and this change in the weather feels a little familiar. Like the Taiwanese, I too will dress according to the calendar and not the thermometer. Will I jinx it if I say I think it's spring?

I'm going through some big transitions, have been for a year now. I'm not sure where winter falls in these seasons of change. Was it those last few months in Taiwan, when I was on the verge of crazy and wanted to stay under the covers until sanity returned? Was it after we landed, the lull between leaving one place and settling into another? Or the fall, once the transitions could be named and outward changes could begin to take root? Perhaps the whole year has been a kind of winter: the passing of one year to the next takes but one stroke of the clock at midnight, yet don't we feel it coming, mark its happening, and then spend weeks adjusting to the new year? And then how soon are we saying, February? Already?? Where has January gone? I can hope for time to pick up speed just a bit now, for my own spring to take hold and new growth to emerge from under the loam.

Pomegranates

Boyce Thompson Arboretum

Jim's Garage

Stop Rest Cafe

Buggy

I grew up with wolf spiders and daddy longlegs in Washington, got to know cockroaches in Taiwan, and now I'm being introduced to a whole new set of creepy-crawlies: beetles, crickets, and scorpions. Crickets are good.

This handsome fellow is a palo verde beetle (or borer). He flew onto the patio last night as my mom and I watched Nora practice cannonballs in the pool. I saw something big and black fly (although "scurry through the air" would be more accurate, visually) out from the darkness beyond the wall and land behind a basket of pool toys next to me. I immediately thought of bats -- it was big, black and awkward. I moved aside a pool float and suddenly it was fluttering, floundering, towards me and then under the bench I was sitting on. I bolted, quite honestly, because I'm fond of neither large insects nor bats. My cool-as-a-cucumber mom, though, gently laid her jacket over it and then went to get a glass with which to trap what we could now see was a very large beetle.

Thanks to Cole's practiced Google skills, we soon learned quite a bit about our little friend. Palo verde beetles live underground as grubs, munching on the roots of palo verde trees, for up to three years. They emerge during monsoon season (which is right now) and are known for being clumsy in flight, attracted to light, and drawn for some reason to fly towards people's faces. I feel no shame now for fleeing from it as it headed my way. I'm going to chalk it up to good instincts; call it fear if you must. The glass it's under in this photo is a large drinking glass, 16 oz or so. The beetle is about three inches long, has a lovely set of mandibles and a glossy black carapace. He's not full grown; adults can be six inches or more. The thought of a six-inch bumbling beetle hurtling towards my face... well, let's just hope monsoon season wraps up soon.

I haven't run into any scorpions yet, although one was found dead in the pool a few weeks ago. (Still waiting on the coroner's report.) I've seen crickets here and there, which I love, but scorpions love them, too, so their Jiminy charm is tempered. Still, I adore their beefy little legs and sprightly jumps; they make me want to give a little whistle. Insects are not my thing, but they too are part of the pageant. I'm doing my best to get to know them and try to make friends, because like it or not we're neighbors now.

Sky

I'm looking through the photos I've taken these last few weeks and seeing some definite themes: birds, clouds, and most of all, sky. Clear skies, night skies, cloudy skies, sunsets... I can't seem to get enough. If you've spent any time at all in Kaohsiung (or any other smoggy Asian city of three million) you probably understand. I'm a Northwest native, and cloudy skies are all right by me, but dull, grey lifeless skies, where you have to chew the air and force yourself not to think about what comes in with every breath... those just take the joy out of being outdoors. I love the brilliant outlines of cumulus clouds on a hot, hot day, and the wet, wispy trails of clouds at sunset when it's been raining. I watch vultures circling high and nighthawks swooping low, quail families that blend in with the terrain and cardinals that stand out like, well, a cardinal in a desert. It's a pageant set against a constantly changing backdrop, and as I get to know the regular characters in this show I'm also getting to know this place.

Next time we'll talk about bugs....