What a great wildflower season there should be this March, in the desert. Of course, a snowbird may leave before the wildflower season in order to escape the heat. But the wildflowers can be impressive. A couple years ago I wallowed in desert poppies at a well-known place near Tucson:
The long-suffering reader knows that I am prone to anti-tourist snobbery. But still, who won't admit that standard tourist-industry memes at well-known locations feels too much like 'consumption' rather than 'experience?' And does it really do you any good to see 10 million identical specimens of a certain flower or tree?
What happened yesterday was at the opposite end of the numerical spectrum. In perfect -- that is, mildly chilly -- weather, my little dog and I were biking along, on a dirt two-track. We were climbing. We were huffing and puffing. And I wasn't exactly sure it was the correct route. Then this surprised me:
It was the first purple flower of the winter. There were only a few of them.
I was fluttering my eyelashes over this to a degree that would mystify most people. It is tempting to apologize for making such a big deal out of such a small thing. In fact, I should be happy that I am doing something right.
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