Our footprint of life makes the deepest impression when we are young, full of life and energy. On hindsight we wish we would have made those indentations a little deeper. When we become old any new mark we make in the sands of time become feeble. If we make any mark at all it seems to be erased by the slightest breeze.
Then one day we find ourselves unable to make any mark at all. And that is when we pass ourselves into the hands of those we have loved and imprinted with our lives. We rely on the past to carry the present. We allow someone to step into our prints and help us into the unknown.
We carry nothing with us but who we have been and who we are, which in itself becomes barely visible. But the prints we leave behind us will last for generations. Wether positive or negative they will play themselves out on the sands of time. This makes a sad and happy smoothy in my heart.
I Have temporarily traded these.....
...and all they symbolize
at this time of the year...warm temperatures, sunshine, sleeveless
shirts and shorts,
I have left these just a short walk from my back door.
And I have traded them for....
THIS!
"Well," you may ask, "You better have a good reason!"
My first few weeks in the desert are filled with awe. The sand and the rocks fascinate me. But after a time my eyes get thirsty for colour. They strain for a drink of slicker yellow, blood red or cobalt blue. The town of Yuma also thirsts for a splash of colour. Buildings blend with the wind blown dunes. Even my camera is bored with brown architecture. She refuses to expose her eye to the colour drought of the city.
But suddenly......SUDDENLY! In the middle of nowhere I come across a colourful relief. The desert artist has become impatient with choices on her palette. With miraculous mauve motions her brush creates mounds of happy desert flowers. An involuntary sigh and again my eyes are satisfied, they rest in relief and my camera opens to expose their beauty to her inner eye.
Mr. Desert Turlle strolled through our park the other day. To all outward appearances he had an important agenda and nothing was getting in his way. He had a rather large audience but was oblivious to the ruckus he created. The paparazzi was out in full force.
He paused for an aerial shot, and then he was off again as though he were searching for something.
" What an idiot! He can't find the finish line!!"
With one final surge of desert energy he wins the race. Once again the proverbial story of the "Tortoise and the Hare" has been authenticized.
For further interesting facts on the Desert Tortoise look here,
http://www.defenders.org/desert-tortoise/basic-facts
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