The Desert is Not a Place That God Forgot

The Desert is not a

Out of the book of the Prophet come these words: "The desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose."

This message was cold comfort to the oldtime travelers who cursed the desert and regarded it as a land of desolation. To them the term "desert" was synonymous with heat, barrenness and death. It presented a picture of half crazed travelers stumbling along with bloodshot eyes and dust-clotted lungs in a waterless, endless expanse dotted with lonely crosses, sun bleached bones, and broken wagons. The desert meant hardship and fruitlessness-a land that God forgot.

The modern tourist, with fine highways and safer means of transportation, can take his time in crossing the desert and observe the handiwork of God in the dry sunny open and find enjoyment in its exotic flora.

There are the cactus fanciers, photographers, painters and writers who find peace, health and inspiration in this land that a wise creator "did not forget."

Full blown evidence of the Scriptural wisdom, "The Desert Shall Blossom as the Rose," may be seen in the sparkling colors of the cactus flowers, the paloverde and ironwood trees, Candles of the Lord (yucca), ocotillo and Spanish bayonetsto name but a few-during April, May and June when the desert is most colorful and the weather most agreeable.

In late April the paloverde trees fringe the washes, each, in a cloud of gold while the concerted hum of a million bees, buzzing in and out of the tiny yellow flowers, make music in the breeze. About this time the scarlet-tipped ocotillos take their part in the spring parade. Their gray thorny wands, growing from ten to twenty feet high and brought together at their bases by a terminal stem, give to each plant the form of a lovely vase. While the bristling little hedgehog cactuses show the purple red and pink of their flowers here and there-some of which may be the center of attraction to a line up of photographers, each awaiting his turn for a shot.

May brings on the flowers of the larger cactuses such as the chollas in a thousand different colors, the several varieties of prickly pears and the Giant Saguaro whose waxy-white flowers bloom at night but remain open most of the following day.

It is also in May that the lilac flowers of the ironwood trees come forth-into purple, at first, and to lilac and finally to grey. This color instability is a pet peeve of photographers who strive to capture the solid cloud of purple or lilac-but nearly always get pale lavender or grey for their efforts. The problem

Land that God forgot

lies in the color arrangement of the flower petals; they are purple one one side and white on the other when fresh. When the flowers are perfectly still a tree may be a solid mass of purple, but in the breeze the colors blend to a lilac or lavender. The instantaneous click of a shutter catches the mixture rather than one of the solid colors. As a matter of fact the color effects from the ironwood tree flowers, when seen as a whole. depend a great deal on one's point of view-except in their declining stage when they bleach out to a grey.

After the flowers of May come the first hot rays of the summer sun that ushers in the month of June. But the heat holds no terror for the legion of flora fans who roam the desert of Southeastern Arizona, inspired by the spectacle of golden agaves (century plants) and Candles of the Lord (yuccas). June is also the month of the Queen of the Night. Night prowlers, at this time, are intrigued by the idea of tracking down this illusive flower whose spicy fragrance greets the nostrils with the challenge "find me if you can."

July is the month for the flowers of the tiny fishhook cactuses or Mammillaria microcarpas to put on their show of color. The tiny flowers of many colors form a circle near the tops of the stems-a floral display that reveals their hiding places, for they are lost, ordinarily, among the larger plants and grasses of the desert and are seldom seen by motorists. Last of the desert flower show comes in August and Sep-tember, in southeastern Arizona, a flamboyant color exhibit by the big barrel cactuses (Ferocactus Wislizennii). Large clusters and circles of flowers are formed at the top of the stems in a range of colors from pale yellow through pink and orange to deep-red; a sight that will thrill the heart of the most hardened cactus hater. From Florence to Benson, Arizona, by the side of the paved highway, there is a veritable garden of these gay colorful, spiny giant capsules of water, the Arizona barrels.

So the desert, as we know it today, is not a land of desolation. Nor is life there a struggle in cruel competition with the elements for a precarious existence, as it once seemed to be to the oldtime travelers. Its people and their animals, its native creatures and flora, all live in perfect harmony. Each in its own fashion, with the help of a wise Creator, has devised ingenious water-storage systems to sustain them over long periods of drought until the rains do, inevitably, come.

In Spring the whole desert creation reflects the glory of the Great Artisan for those who take time to observe it the desert is not a land that God forgot.