Yesterday we saw a
dead skunk in the wash on a steep slope and appreciated its beautiful black and
white mottling. I noted its location,
thinking I would watch the process of its return to the earth. I am particularly fascinated with bones and
skeletons that I might run across. This
morning it was gone, it had taken a fast track to earth through a scavenger’s
digestive tract, I imagine. But its
smell still lingered. I bet it smells
great to whoever ate it. It got me
thinking about these incredible homemade pickles my Hungarian grandmothers and
great grandmothers used to make. We
called them Stinky Pickles, and the only way to ‘get’ their awesomeness would
be to eat one.
Before our morning
walk I was reading about an image of a well and was reminded of how powerful
that archetypal form is to living things.
When I have thought of a ‘well’ in the last couple of years it has been
feeling dry and almost totally related to the flow of money. Wow, what a very narrow vision of such a rich
symbol. Today I am overwhelmed with the multitudinous
resources flowing from the well into my life. Things as
simple and sacred as the lingering odor of a desert creature or the memory of grandmother’s
homemade pickles.
I am particularly blessed with images that get themselves photographed around here. This sunset was two
nights ago and could bring me to my knees. You can see the telescopes on Mt. Lemmon. The other is this incredible baby
lupine wildflower here in winter struggling to ‘be’ in the crevice of the limestone
fossil rock. Love the sahuaro seeming to pop out of the top of the crack. Sorry for the shimmy in the third, but I barely got the camera outside to take this, not yet have the tripod set, but the red color was amazing. Looked like something was on fire at first glance. Oh no, my well is certainly
not dry, it is overflowing.