Saturday, May 26, 2007

It's A Strange Land (The Neighborhood Chronicles)

Well, it has been a little over a year since we invaded this small desert neighborhood, and we are settling in quite nicely amongst the dry sand dunes and flying tumbleweeds. Who would have thought that I would come to love the desert? Granted, the alternative was remaining homeless. Therefore the desert was the better choice.

The weather has also been a pleasant surprise--four seasons with attitude. Winter brings us a fluttering blanket of a snow fall but a blizzard of that white stuff over in the next town, up the hill a bit. Spring is amazing. Our garden (a small oasis) grows with abundance--Fuji apples, pomegranites, clusters of green grapes, persimmons and so on. Birds, especially green and red-chested sparrows, can now be heard morning and evening time. They even land in our baby trees. It's adorable. And they have made peace with our two hounds. Grass is a little hard to grow but truck loads of water can do the trick. Summer can run a little hot, three digit kind of hot, but we have three beautiful natural lakes close by. The extreme heat seems to put more color into our flowers. No kidding. And then we are back in the Fall which soothes the land and prepares us for winter. It's all very strange and wonderful. We thank God for this land every day.

We knew, of course, when we first arrived that we had landed on another planet. People speak very strange here--Git-R-Done is written on Spanky's baseball league shirt. We have no gangs here, but those Southern-like boys have AR-15s and M-16s which probably drove away those ganstas. Eeeck!! Then again, we might need those weapons as we spot those baby rattle snakes crossing the street. Yes, we stop for snakes. And that howling of those coyotes brings no comfort at night. Though we think they howl because hawks attack their pups. Still, we sleep with open windows and our little dogs patrol the fences. Bless their hearts.

The neighborhood is silent this Saturday morning. I counted a few cars driving on the "express way," and I think I can hear the grass grow (someone has dropped hills of good dirt) on the empty acres of vast desert land behind our home. Farewell, my friends, I am off to read about even stranger lands from That Hideous Strength by my literary hero, C.S. Lewis.






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