Saguaro Fruit Season

What's red and black, chewy and crunchy, the sweetest natural candy outside a bees nest? The pith of saguaro fruit, split open and cooked in the sun, makes a natural fruit taffy, far more wonderful that I had imagined. Now I know how the natives survived the silly season; they knew the saguaro fruit was ripening.

We found this young arm with two split open fruits on an early morning bike ride of the loop road in Saguaro National Park East unit. As you see in the second photo, ants and one huge horsefly were already working away at the wonderful stuff, but the doves, bats, and almost every other flying thing of the desert, hadn't found this bounty. The only reason the doves and bats, in particular, don't get all the saguaro fruit, is that there is so much of it. We've been watching the early ripening fruits for two weeks on our rides, but the seeds and pith, the sweet stuff was all gone. What's left is a three or four petaled blazing red fruit shell, folded back against the spines, looking like a second blossom. The real blossom is white and begins blooming in April. The Tohono O'odham use the pith and seeds for all kinds of stuff, including a fermented drink for celebration of the arrival of the bounty of summer and the monsoon rains. We would be happy to just eat the stuff; it's better than any candy. Don't be afraid of the desert summer; ruby red rewards await!

LiveJournal Tags: saguaro fruit, summer in the desert, Sonoran desert, wild fruit, natural food, natural fruit, natural candy, taffy, Saguaro National Park, Tohono O'odham, Tohono O'odham food, life in the desert

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Oh, we shooed the fly away, but ate the ants. (double click the photo to see a larger version)

Lucky Blog Brought Monsoon

They say that the monsoon begins in Arizona when it rains on you. All I had to do was post the last blog about the monsoon, and ta da, it rained on me last night and now again this afternoon. Of course everyone goes out in the first monsoon rain; it's sort of a spiritual thing; a big sigh of relief. Both were mild, as monsoon rains go, some lightning, some thunder and enough rain to get wet, sound nice on the roof and dapple the swimming pool. Best was being able to sleep with the widows open last night, and a short nap with the rain this afternoon. The temperature dropped nearly thirty degrees in a couple of hours.

We collected a small epiphyte (air plant) in Florida as a shower pet in Turtle (our motorhome) last December. It loved our shower of course, but has been having to survive with a dunking every week or so since we returned to dry Tucson in March; we prefer to shower at our clubhouse.

Yesterday I hung it on our long blooming desert plant (favorite of hummingbirds, can't remember the name) to enjoy a real shower. I like to think it is going to enjoy the monsoon, if it can survive the sun and dry.

Does anyone know how to feed an epiphyte? other than leave it out in the air, something I'm not too sure is a good idea in dry Tucson.

Would you like to give our epiphyte a name?

happy monsoon,

bob

Technorati Tags: epiphyte, monsoon, rain, Arizona

Monsoon Meltdown; Arizona Silly Season: The Monsoon Buildup.

People in most of the country think Arizona has no seasons. I once had that idea myself, until I lived for a year in Tucson. In Southern Arizona, there are two major seasons: the wet, and the dry. The wet is divided into two parts, what others call winter, and summer. The dry is also divided into two parts, corresponding to spring and autumn in the rest of the country. That's the simple explanation, but like most simple explanations, omits the interesting stuff:

Right now, June, we are in what the Australians in Queensland and Northern Territory, Australia, call the buildup. It is also called the silly season, the murder season -- you get the idea, it drives people nuts. It is the hottest part of the year, and the humidity rises to uncomfortable levels. The Arizona buildup is nothing compared to say, Darwin, where 110f + temperatures somehow manage to hold 80% humidity. In Tucson we think it is unbearable when the humidity hits 35%, no matter what the temperature. In Phoenix, they get much higher humidity, and temps, because they like to have large lawns they water daily; Karma if you ask me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Technorati Tags: monsoon, Tucson, Arizona, Silly Season, Monsoon Meltdown, desert, summer, Australia weather, Karma, Phoenix

As June comes to an end, we can begin to sense the monsoon rains inching closer, and that knowledge produces an interesting mix of physical misery and spiritual hope that is positively intoxicating. We check the Doppler radar on Yahoo Weather constantly: is that blotch of red, ringed with yellow and green, bending in our direction? Dare we hope the monsoon will begin today?

Soon, one 100 + day will, imperceptibly at first, begin to show cute little summer puffy clouds, the ones much of the country gets at some time during the summer. But, surrounding these innocent looking clouds, miles up in the deep blue desert sky, hide huge quantities of moisture. As the afternoon wears on, and the desert floor pumps blistering heat up into the mix, those cute clouds begin to morph, slowly at first, then more rapidly into unbelievably tall white clouds with inky blue/black bottoms, impossibly convoluted, beautiful and powerful. Therein hides lightning not to be believed, thunder to rattle buildings and the nerves of living things, and followed by downpours of Genesis 5 proportions (well, maybe not quite that outrageous).

Will this be the day?

Stay tuned.

Signs of a Desert Summer, and Time WE Sacrificed

A saguaro fruit, once it has been harvested of seeds by the desert critters, folds back into a lotus shape.

There is nothing subtle about summer in the Sonoran Desert. The temperature climbs inexorably to three digits, the air dries to five percent, and the sensation of being slowly roasted in a very hot ovens dominates the senses. Of course we ride our bicycles anyway. It's a bit more like being in a convection oven; you roast evenly. However the sun has failed to roast these two pieces of meat, because we ingest huge quantities of fluids, soak our clothes regularly and ride fast. Evaporative cooling works. Besides we were hotter in Turkey, and knowing you won't die if you drink makes a big difference.

Tucson's newest bicycle bridge, the basket bridge, inspired by patterns found on Tohono O'odham baskets.

We are getting somewhat radical on the use of our car. We are down to less than on (small) tank of gasoline a month. We are not being holier than thou, after all, we did drive our motorhome thousands miles in the last 12 months; at least it was for work.

We did decide that at least we could do one small thing. We can set an example by driving our little Geo Tracker, as little as possible. When people see us out on the streets, bike panniers filled to overflowing with groceries, with the temperature hovering between 104 and 109, they know we are saving fuel, and maybe they'll consider making one less trip each week, somehow.

The small things are all we can do. If each of us cut our fuel consumption in half (what we have done since March), a bunch of speculators would get soaked, policy makers and auto manufacturers would put their "future" projects on the fast track, and we could all stop whining. But, change is not something that comes easy to most folks. We've had more than one dirty look and a middle finger or two from big honker truck drivers, usually male, who have been told by the Neo Cons, that saving fuel is Un-American. Better we should invade another Arab country, since Iraq worked so well at keeping down the price of oil.

Lots of people think riding a bicycle is beyond them, but they would be wrong. Yes, it takes a little effort, a little learning, but since when have Americans shrunk from doing what needs to be done? Since 9/11 when the powers-that-be, told us we were victims and the only answer was to shop, and send our troops to sacrifice themselves in war. Maybe it's time WE made some sacrifices.

Oh, all this biking is not all sacrifice: we each have lost more than 10 pounds. Hmmmmm

Chinese Construction Weakness

During our travels along the Silk Road, due to camping restrictions in China, we usually stayed in local hotels, not the expensive ones for tourists and party officials. The construction was of a very low standard, cost being the overriding consideration, or perhaps as some villagers have suggested, corruption. Notice the wall in this photo: to the right of the television running from the bottom of the window to the floor, and below, is a crack more than one inch wide. It would not have taken much of an earthquake to take the building down, and us with it.

We feel very personally for the Chinese, who were, and are, our friends.

Aching For China

 

Our hearts ache for China. The rural Chinese were so kind to us as we traveled the Silk Road. Our tandem bicycle was quite a surprise for the small villages we traversed, where we ate and slept and struggled to find our way west. They passed on many opportunities to take advantage of rich foreigners, they shared what they did not have to share. Many of the small hotels we slept in would have fallen in a much weaker quake, so I can only imagine how quickly and violently the mud brick and wood slat homes fell.

The Chinese are still an mystery to most Americans. But take it from Claire and I, who spent two months with them, most of it in rural areas, small villages: they love their families as much as we do, they are a sweet people, a hard working people who shared what they could with two people who's bicycle was worth more than their yearly income.

If given an opportunity to help the victims of this quake, please do. In the century to come, their country may very well dominate world affairs. Now is the time to make friends.

 

Organ Pipe National Monument

Longtime friends, Steve and Wendy Richards, from Lexington, Virginia, gave us an excuse to get our motorhome out of storage and visit one of our favorite places in Southern Arizona, Organ Pipe National Monument. April is a prime month to visit because the, found-only-here in the U.S., Organ Pipe is in full bloom, along with a wide array of opuntia (prickly pear) and cholla; quite a few annuals are still hanging on also.

One of the best things about Organ Pipe is getting close to rattlesnakes; there are more rattlesnakes in Organ Pipe, per square acre than anyplace I know. This one checked out our campsite thoroughly before curling up a couple of meters away. He kept his rattles up, just in case. We put our feet up, just in case.

Organ Pipe is one of the most diverse parts of the most diverse desert in the world. It is a brutally beautiful place that unfolds slowly in subtle ways. One of the best ways to experience Organ Pipe is from the seat of a mountain bike on the 23 mile Ajo Mountain Loop Road. Most people who can ride a bicycle, and are in reasonable physical condition from hiking etc., can do the ride, although it takes awhile for some to get accustomed to the riding-on-ball bearings feeling. Lay the bike down once in awhile, take a stroll in the desert, take your eyes off the wide landscape, the big things; focus on the skeletons of organ pipes and chollas a pollen covered insect at the center of blossom, the structure of a thorn, oh, and maybe the rattles on that rattlesnake trying to get your attention.

Steve Richards photo

Hardy Hikers do Blacketts Ridge

An energetic group of Hardy Hikers strained quads and challenged acrophobia on a hike to the top of Blackets Ridge Tuesday. Annual wildflowers are beginning to bloom and the warm blooded critters are coming out to enjoy the sun.

bob rogers

Romero Pools Hike

 

We hiked to Romero Pools from Catalina State Park, just north of Tucson, with my sister Anna Bowlds. We were surprised at the dozen annual wildflowers blooming. It seems early for such a display, and that bodes well for the bloom later on.

Snow?

 

White Sands National Monument sure can look like snow. It even crunches under tires like very cold snow. Spooky.

  Cold too, in the early morning after a cold night.

Lots more life than expected. The gypsum holds water and the plants are able to get water even when it hasn't rained in months. All they have to worry about are rockets falling from the sky from the White Sands Missile Range.

Self Portrait at Three Rivers Petroglyph Site in New Mexico

We camped here two nights. We were up before dawn and out until dark making photographs and listening to coyotes and ravens sing the sun up and down. The second night we had so many coyote choir concerts that we finally gave up listening and slept anyway. This BLM site is one of the best we have visited, so far. We are coming to the realization that we will have to work awfully hard to take in all the great BLM sites in the West. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it!

Fence?

The Rio Grande separates us from them here at Boquillas in the Big Bend of West Texas. It is one of our favorite places. On a previous visit, we waved at a Mexican on the other side and he ferried us across ($2 both ways) and we visited a small village in Mexico. After a fine lunch, ordered with pantomime and smiles, we walked to the local one room schoolhouse where we were welcomed by the schoolmaster and his students with more pantomime and smiles. We returned to the U.S. in late afternoon, and no one arrested us for leaving and entering the country illegally. We left memories of some friendly gringos, and returned with a renewed appreciation for the brotherhood of mankind. This little voyage across the Rio Grande contributed to our desire to meet the peoples of our world on their terms, on their land, and to show that Americans are pretty much like them, just luckier, richer. Our tandem bicycle trip across the Silk Road, in Muslim country most of the way, proved our belief that we all are much more alike than we are different.

It appears we may someday soon see a fence on our side of the Rio Grande. Perhaps it will keep out a few cheap laborers, a few drug smugglers, a child on a donkey chasing his mother's cow... What will it cost us?

Back in the saddle again. Out where a friend is a friend. Where the longhorn cattle roam....

  

Claire cleaning horse shit (that's what they call it here) from a horseshoe, attached to a horse, of course.

  Last week we hung out with the cowboys and cowgirls, and their horses, at the Stillwell Ranch in Big Bend country, West of the Pecos. We had heard about the big trail ride on previous visits to the ranch, and were really happy to have lucked on the right week, so we stayed a couple of extra days. We met lots of fine Texans (we didn't talk politics) ate lots of Wally's fine trail cooking, cut a rug at the cowboy dance and even got in a bike ride down towards Mexico. Next? West Texas is always full of surprises.

Wally's feed tent. New friends.

Claire on her steed, riding toward La Linda.