The Metaxy

I’ll tell ya, friends: Few things in life are as profound as a strong sense of place. Nothing compares to possessing intimate knowledge of a specific spot on this Earth, a piece of the world that is yours, which belongs to you and, deeper still, to which you belong. Who I am was formed here, in the land of the saguaro. Here is my territory. Here is my country. Here is my patria.

“To part the glories of this happy day”

Look what they’ve done to my song, Ma

Good lord (I included the transformers in the background purposely)

On my way saguaroward again

1938 Wickenburg High School yearbook in which the great Loy Clingman makes an appearance

I’m sitting beside a Frank Gallagher carving rn

Nighttime would find me in Rose's cantina / Music would play and Felina would whirl

I’m thinking that instead of my ladders what I maybe need is a horse

“Oh, not much. You?”

I don’t know why the quail will only sit on the pole, and even that very rarely, and never feed from the feeder itself, only forage on the ground. They’re about the only birds the Gilas don’t drive away from the feeder. Desert mystery, I guess.

An honorable death

Harris consented to one or two photos and no more

I don’t know if it’s a bug but when I shoot video with the phone it includes whatever music I’m playing from the phone. For me it’s a feature because it almost always comes out almost as if planned and edited. Anyway, here’s some Rhinemaiden action for you.