My soul aches a little for the desert.
I miss it.
I never thought that sentiment would enter into my daily consciousness. For the majority of my life I’ve been largely indifferent to all the nuances the desert landscapes offer. But now, after driving and adventuring in the northern Arizona desert for a week, I find it’s vast open expanses playing on repeat throughout my mind. I crave it. More specifically though, I crave that desert that contains those positively charged ions and that distinct dampness of the red earth: storms in the desert. I won’t see that desert that I met in Arizona for a while, and that’s okay. Until we meet again, I have this place, Oregon, I call home, right outside my front door – and boy, she’s a certain kind of magic, too. Truly though, it’s all magic; it just depends on where and when you look, and with what eyes you gaze with.
The flickering light through the maple and the lingering pine and moss fragrances of the Oregon I know are right here and right now. And before autumn passes through my fingers like almost every season lately, I’m trying daily to inhale this home of mine.
Since I’ve been home from the desert the days have been a whirlwind of work and general household catching up – but in-between the necessary tasks of life building we stole away to our local pumpkin patch and also spent a brief hour at my parent’s cabin on the South Umpqua River. Two different days – two different ways to spend a lovely hour on this glorious rock. It’s easy to forgot how powerful an hour can be, so these small getaways are often the sweetest and most profound; they can define an entire season. I’m so happy we took these two hours…
And now, some images to finish telling the story:
My quintessential “autumn album.” It’s been a favorite for years and still doesn’t disappoint: