We get precious little real heat in
Anchorage. As a child from the desert, I sometimes miss it. So I
was pleased when, on a recent hike through Arizona's dirt, rock, and
cactus, the sun finally broke free from the dull gray clouds, typical
perhaps of Seattle but out of place here, and started to beat down
with the full intensity of noon. I performed a little ritual of
sun-worship, at least in my mind, that involved small offerings of
blood and sweat, and the deep drinking of sunshine through every
exposed pore. C, meanwhile, is a child of the subarctic. While I,
energized, surged, she flushed and felt faint. Somehow we both
forget that, on these occasional trips to the desert, C flirts with
death with each step whenever we leave the shade.
But it all worked out. We made it back
to the rental car and its air conditioning, and before long we were
wondering when we could do it again.
Its been awful quiet around here
lately. Things should pick up starting in July.
