“If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride … ” – Old Proverb
I do not know what a wish looks like, though I think it might look like a rising sun over a glassy harbor. Beggar that I am, I wish for a horse to ride and one more.
Gentle, well-school mounts so Garry and I can ride together again. And, I wish all of us the best life can give us — many sunrises on the shores of bright summer days.
Once upon a time long ago there lived a king who built an amazing castle high atop a mountain in the desert.
From his aerie, the king could see almost his entire kingdom except for his capital city, which lay far to the south. Still, from the great height of his castle’s ramparts, he could see for many miles and it was magnificent.
But there were hardly any people. Eagles flew by. Sometimes one of these great birds would stop and perch on the castle walls, but then they moved on to wherever eagles go. Sometimes a passing mountain goat, looking for greener grasses came close, then wandered off. No one came to visit. It was too far and too hard to reach.
Eventually, the king felt so isolated he barely remembered what it meant to be a king or why he had moved to a place so beautiful but empty. Realizing he was lonely and would remain so if he stayed where he was — after a few more years passed because he was a stubborn ruler and the real estate market for second-hand castles on desert mountaintops was soft — the king abandoned his mountain retreat.
He left the walls and the turrets for the wind, rain and wild creatures to do with as they would.The monarch took his most treasured belongings and returned to his city to be with people, his people. And there, with life bustling around him, he was no longer alone or lonely. Sometimes he missed his castle in the desert and dreamed of it.
Away in the desert, atop its mountain perch, the castle began to crumble in on itself, yet even to this day, if you travel through the desert, you can see it. There it is, high on its perch in the Painted Desert, overlooking a tiny, silvery river. You can visit, if you like.
More pictures from an afternoon rambling through the valley and along the river. Birch trees, wildflowers. Gardens blooming brightly in the summer heat. A bright blue sky and deep green leaves. It’s July in the valley.
The first is Peachum, Vermont just after sunrise. The second is the Superstition Mountains of Arizona. The third photograph shows fuchsia blossoms and buds on my back deck, taken a few days ago.
For all practical purposes, our garden has gone completely wild. Other than occasionally pulling out the bindweed and pieces of dead rose-bush, I can’t do much and no one else has energy or interest.
Yet the garden blooms. In no organized way. It looks — is — unstructured. Without design. Natural.
Which oddly, is fine with me.
“Green green, it’s green they say, on the far side of the hill …”
This time of year, it’s green on both sides of the hill. The rocks are green with lichen
With a lot of rain coming down, it will be even greener tomorrow. The air is heavy with humidity and though the air conditioning is on, the house feels just a bit too damp for comfort.
The first to show green in the spring, the last to lose its leaves in autumn, our Japanese maple.
The dogs are sacked out on the floor. It’s cooler there. I discourage them from trying to crawl under the sofa. I know they are just seeking the coolest place they can find, but they keep getting stuck.