Ajo

We were in Ajo, Arizona, recently. It's close to Mexico, and pure desert. The air is clear and the sky is clear. The Joshua trees grow anywhere and everywhere, twisting and curling their rough arms into shapes that make beautiful contrast against a pink sunset night. The wind smells clean. And the little boys are brave. They're at home in their harsh surrounds, eager to pick up a tiny scorpion for my macro lens. But they're not unaware of the risks. They know all about them. "Rachel, this is a cholla cactus. Their needles are curved at the tips so that they stick in you better." (This from a ten-year-old boy.)
And Reed: "Mom, I saw a turantula! And it was WHITE! [Then, dreamily] I love Arizona. I can throw rocks at nothing when Dad says it's okay."