In the Southwest, an explosive bloom has been expected because of wonderful winter rain. What better way is there to honor the rain than to relent, to put my snobbishness aside, and to play wildflower-tourist?
Since it wasn't quite the weekend, the crowds were actually tolerable. They haven't quite gone to a reservation-system yet, just for admission. It is strange how close you have to get in order to see the flowers. OK I admit it: they are somewhat impressive.
What I like about this photo is the way it invokes the feeling of drowning in the flowers. Right after taking this photo, I got busted for stepping off the official footpath. I hate state parks.
Actually there was very little variety in the colors there. What is the big deal about the sheer quantity of one thing? There is philosophical similarity between the sheer quantity of flowers and the sheer quantity of mass-tourists, all programmed to like the same thing.
I prefer an interesting assortment of colors in non-tourist areas. Here is one I photographed years ago. I forgot where.
There were a couple things to look at that interested me more than the flowers, such as the color green. The saguaros were swollen with water -- they were as stout as javelinas. You could barely see the ground because it was covered with green vegetation of various kinds.
On the peaks and ridgelines, you could see the silhouettes of healthy saguaros. How do they do that? How do you thrive on land that has no watershed uphill of it?
In the Picacho Peak area, years ago:
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