The Dry Dance of the Ocotillo

Ocotillo #1 | Mark Lindsay

Driving south of Tucson my cluttered mind opened up to the bone-dry sky. The friable earth had swirled into the heavens and tinted them into a dusty azure that was surprisingly pleasant. Other than the earth's tiny particles, there was nothing up there but the sun and an old cargo plane that was circling overhead. My brain was emptying out with each mile south of civilization—swirling around with the dust and plane. But soon, the cargo plane got tired of its antics and landed. Then there was nothing.

Click to read more ...

Empty Table

Empty Table at Dawn, Patagonia | Mark Lindsay

A sense of place—the only way to discover it is to walk at dawn. One must make discoveries on one's own terms. I must be alone when walking a path for the first time. There is nothing quite like waking in a new place for the first time and getting out to see it as does the sun upon a fresh day.

Click to read more ...

A Moment and a Turkey Vulture

Turkey Vulture in Dark Sky | Mark Lindsay

I feel his shadow before I actually see it. Like a light summer cloud that blocks the sun for just a moment, our shadows converge into one. Turkey vulture and I look at one another. I could swear he knows that I have a camera—He circles me for a pose. I click furiously, suddenly being blinded by the sun as his graceful wingspan moves aside and reveals the furious, burning ball of light. Then he moves back in position again to shade me. And the sun disappears behind him.

Click to read more ...

Coffee and Javelinas

Morning Javelina | Mark Lindsay

Right about there you'll see the javelinas," our host told us as we toured the town of Patagonia for the first time. Even in midday the small village in southeastern Arizona was pretty much empty. I figured the javelinas would be good company. I immediately made my plans to meet them.

Click to read more ...

Along the Border

Steel Border| Mark Lindsay

"See that hill over that? That's Mexico." Our dear friend seemed excited to point that out to us as we looked out from a high, Arizona hill. The Arizona hill looked much the same as did the Mexican version. It was fun to imagine the hills in different colors like one sees on a map. But, no, they looked pretty much the same. "We'll drive down there and a bit and check out the border up close," he said as we walked back to the car.

Click to read more ...