PILGRIMAGE INTO SPRING

Through heavy clouds, which weighed down my spirits, a nimble ray of sunlight pointed an accusing finger at a dusty volume on my bookshelf. While it was embarrassing to be reminded by a heavenly monitor of neglecting housework, any excuse to leave my desk was welcome. I wiped the book clean and started to replace it. But the sunbeam had now cleared a larger space in the gray sky, gathered some companions to his aid, and was spreading an inviting warmth through the corner of the room, smiling brightly on the worn leather binding.

No sooner had I opened the pages of "The Canterbury Tales" than Chaucer's sprightly array of pilgrims came trouping out of the 14th century; each one, from Knight to Pardoner, clamoring for a chance to retell his tales.

How well that ancient storyteller knew the human heart. For while his opening lines: "Whan that Aprillë with his shourës sootë. . ." sound better to our ears as "When April with his showers sweet . . ." the same zephyrs would soon be keeping birds awake all night, and the human spirit respond to the call of Spring. Not the errant sunbeam, but my own desires, had pointed out the book, hungering to be reassured that still "folk longen to goon on pilgrimages."

What better guide could there be than Chaucer? With his lines brought up to date, I'd let him lead me, a 20th century pilgrim, on a journey into Spring.

My Canterbury would be Arizona, a land vaster than all of England. Already, as I felt the age-old quickening, travelers from far places were heading for its flower trails. No need to wait for April: Spring comes long before then in this enchanted land, awakening at the feet of purple desert ridges; spreading farther with each passing day, into lifting mesa lands; to arrive on schedule in mountain meadows, where forest-covered slopes and rocky pinnacles mark out "distant shrines" against the deep blue sky.

There would be other wayfarers like myself, seeking a cure for ills of the minds we prison away from healing breeze; from reviving scents of flowers and trees; and long looks over open land and chiseled panorama of cliff and mountain top.

I wonder if old Geoffrey, were he living now, might not give us a new Canterbury Tales, with plants for pilgrims, to add still more charm to our visit.

Perhaps his noble knight would be the Giant Saguaro, guardian of the mysterious Desert and easily most stately of its family. Choosing the Lower Sonoran kingdom of rocky hills and swooping valleys for a domain, it grows with immense deliberation from less than an inch at several years to perhaps thirty-five feet, through a two-hundred-year life span. Only in maturity is the Arizona state flower worn in waxy perfection on rounded tips of irregularly arranged arms. A young Saguaro keeps out of sight, even of its elders, in the shady care of some shrub, until strong enough to enter the lists against the strong sun. Then, for some decades, as it learns the art of self defense, these sturdy Squires, with unbranched trunks, are scattered through through stands of the more experienced and often grotesque old warriors.

Saguaro, guardian of the mysterious Desert and easily most stately of its family. Choosing the Lower Sonoran kingdom of rocky hills and swooping valleys for a domain, it grows with immense deliberation from less than an inch at several years to perhaps thirty-five feet, through a two-hundred-year life span. Only in maturity is the Arizona state flower worn in waxy perfection on rounded tips of irregularly arranged arms. A young Saguaro keeps out of sight, even of its elders, in the shady care of some shrub, until strong enough to enter the lists against the strong sun. Then, for some decades, as it learns the art of self defense, these sturdy Squires, with unbranched trunks, are scattered through through stands of the more experienced and often grotesque old warriors.

The Yeoman of the Desert might be the Yucca, turned out with a whole armory of swords and daggers. Some have slender poniards, others flat blades. From the dainty rosettes of small varieties to the great arboreal forms of the Joshua Tree, they all proudly bear panicles of white lilies as if Spring were their Lady and this her flower.

I would like, if we wish to push the thought farther, to assign the part of the tender-hearted Prioress to the Palo Verde Tree, wearing golden robes which swish their color along winding dry washes. The barrel cacti might be the merry Friar or the full-bodied Monk. Their crown of blossoms, yellow to red, seems a jolly sort of joke; a surprise for these drably garbed figures of the Desert to produce. Would you pick the Ocotillo as the thin, sober Clerk? the Creosote Bush for the successful Merchant? The latter spreads its enterprising varnished green coat and gold of flower where many other traders can't make a go of business with the arid lands.

Since the Smiling Season begins in Southern Arizona, so should a journey when Spring is hostess. The traveler will feel at home here, for, as in the old Tabard Inn of England, "the rooms were spacious and . . . comfortable indeed we all were made." Everyone should be comfortable, for these air-conditioned living quarters lie in a zone receiving the greatest proportionate amount of sunshine of any area in the nation-eighty percent is the published statistic-twice as much as some other sections of the country. Coupled with low humidity, the climate rivals the long-famous Upper Egypt as a place where the human mechanism functions most effortlessly. No wonder we find it also a gathering place for such a

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BEARDTONGUE -Penstemon pseudospectabilis BY WILLIS PETERSON. This attractive flower is found at nearly all elevations throughout the Southwest. The flowers are in bloom in the spring and early summer on the desert, while in the mountains they will bloom in July. A member of the Figwort family, the Beardtongue grows from a few inches high to three feet or more tall. These handsome, petal-laden stems overlook the road to Seven Springs, a few miles north of Cave Creek, Ariz.

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BEE PLANT - Cleome serrulata. Large showy plant with slender branches that wave gracefully in the breeze along the roadsides in the higher altitudes 4,500 to 7,000 ft. elevation.

FAIRY DUSTERCalliandra. A low-growing perennial shrub of the Mimosa subfamily and one of the most attractive of all desert plants. Five to seven buds open simultaneously to form a most exquisite pink ball.

SPIDER FLOWER - Cleome jonesii. This plant is closely related to the Bee plant except this species is a golden yellow and found only in lower altitudes 1,000 to 4,000 ft. elevation. Both species belong to the Caper family.

ARIZONA POPPIES - Kallstroemia grandiflora. These large rich orange flowers closely resemble poppies, which they have taken as a common name; however, they belong to the Caltrop family and are close relatives of the Creosote Bush and Puncture Vine (Tribulus). They blossom mid-summer through fall and are one of our most showy annuals.

EASTER DAISIES-Townsendia arizonica. These almost stemless clusters of aster-like flowers push themselves up through the pine needles and dead leaves which keep them safe and warm through the winter. They blossom around Eastertime, as soon as the snow melts in elevations from 4,500 to 7,000 ft.

Macrosiphonia brachysiphon. This plant has no common name but is a member of the Dogbane family. The showy white funnelform flowers open in the evening and close in the early forenoon the following day. Found in the vicinity of Nogales, it blossoms July to September.

FLANNEL BUSH - Fremontia californica. A large shrub or small tree of the Cocoa family. The plant is very handsome when in full bloom and has been used as an ornamental shrub domestically. The bark has properties of slippery elm and has been used to relieve irritation of the throat. Found at elevations from 3,500 to 6,000 ft.

TREE TOBACCO-Nicotiana glauca. A small tree up to 13 ft. high with large leaves which, before the day of the white man, were dried by the Indians and used as tobacco. The plant contains an alkaloid, anabsine, very effective in killing certain species of aphid. Flowers may be seen on this plant almost any time of year.

DESERT ASTERS - Aster tepbrodes. Asters are found throughout the state at various elevations. This is the one most commonly seen in the desert foothills. They are usually found growing among bushes that give protection and support for their slender stems. They are more abundant in the fall months.

CROWN BEARD - Verbesina. This plant blossoms April to November but is more abundant in late summer and fall by the roadsides and in sandy washes. Large patches of bottomland take on a golden hue from waving fields of this plant.

HEART PINKS-Phlox woodhousei. There are many species of Phlox in Arizona, but this one is almost endemic in the State. Each of its five pink petals is heart-shaped. Flowers in spring and autumn.

Evolvulus arizonicus. This beautiful little flower has no common name. It is considered to be tropical and grows only in the extreme southern part of the state. It is a sun-loving plant growing in dry places and mesas. Belongs to the Convolvulus family, blooms April to October at elevations from 3,500 to 5,000 ft.

GOLD POPPY - Eschscholtzia mexicana. This poppy is so closely related to the California Poppy that it is usually called by that name. It differs only in being a smaller variety with less foliage and in most cases is strictly an annual plant. Under favorable conditions, extensive flat desert areas are aglow with these showy yellow and orange-colored poppies in the spring. Rocky hillsides and tailus slopes are sometimes so matted with these plants that one can hardly step without crushing their beautiful blossoms.

CLUSTERDAISY - Melampodium leucanthum TORR & GRAY. As the name implies these plants grow in clumps and are from six to eight inches high. This clump is snuggling against some lichen covered rocks. Though not conspicious alone, many plants make hillsides seem as though handfuls of cotton had been scattered around.

GLOBE MALLOW - Sphaeralcea. Probably the most common desert wildflower throughout the Southwest, the mallows range in size from small herbs to plants as tall as five feet. The flowers, too, range in color from white and pale yellow to lavender, apricot, and red. At one time the Indians made a solution from this plant for bathing sore eyes. The Mallow blossoms are found in profusion from late February to May and if rainfall is sufficient will bloom all summer.

PURPLE NIGHTSHADE - Solanum xanti. Quite showy with its purple-violet flowers, this plant is quite common along roadsides during the late spring and summer. Although this plant is reported to be poisonous, the Pima Indians add its crushed berries to milk in making cheese. A member of the potato family, the Purple Nightshade grows from one to three feet high throughout the Arizona, Texas, and California deserts.

BRITTLEBUSH Encelia. Probably the first to bloom in spring, this medium-sized shrub, from two to three feet high, covers many of the desert's rocky hillsides. Its gray-green leaves are in sharp contrast with its golden yellow blossoms. The plants are abundant on slopes below 3,000 feet from Southern Nevada to Lower California and eastward through Arizona.

DESERT MARIGOLD - Baileya. This wooly annual herb with showy yellow flowers on long solitary stems is one of the most beautiful plants gracing roadsides and dry, sandy desert washes. It blooms from March to October throughout the Arizona, Texas, and California deserts. It is a member of the Sunflower family.

HUMMINGBIRD BUSH-Beloperone californica. Attractive to hummingbirds, hence its name, this shrub can be found in blossom the year around. A member of the Bladderwort family, it is most often found along desert arroyas and is especially fond of growing in rocky canyon walls. It is often called Chiparosa and Honeysuckle.

PAINT BRUSH -Castilleja. Belonging to the Figwort family, the Indian Paint Brush is found throughout the state. The shades range from a yellowish-red to red, and, on rare occasions, white. Hopi Indians use the Paint Brush for medicine and in their ceremonies. Actually it is the leaves which show the color. The plant's flowers are so tiny one has difficulty in finding them.

WALLFLOWER - Erysinman. When in bloom the plant is quite handsome, growing to a height of three or four feet. It belongs to the Mustard family and grows at an altitude from 2,500 to 12,000 feet. It blooms from March to September.

PINK MIMOSA Mimosa wrightii. Arizona's showiest and most handsome Mimosa with long spikes of purplish-pink flowers. It is most beautiful in the Nogales area in July and August at elevations from 3,500 to 6,500 ft.

WINDMILLS - Allionia incarnata. Each tiny "windmill" is composed of three small flowers which fit together to form a complete circle. They belong to the Four O'clock family and blossom from April to October in elevations up to 6,000 ft.

GHOST FLOWER - Mohavea confertiflora. Its silky corolla, sprinkled with purple dots, is unsurpassed for beauty and delicacy among our desert flora. It blooms from February through April in low desert regions along the California and Nevada borders. It is a member of the Figwort family.

wide variety of plants, willing to make any necessary compromises to stay here, enduring the hardships of the hotter seasons to be able to luxuriate in this perfect spring weather.

Science has yet to discern whether plants enjoy more than physical pleasures, but we are convinced man must have something beyond agreeable climate and proper food. To his higher requirements the Desert seems specially tuned. All the ingredients of the sublime in scenery are supplied in generous measure: breadth and bulk; endless open spaces upon which the elemental mountain forms are drawn to a scale hardly to be grasped at first. In the Desert's Book of Hours, each is newly painted in colors shifting from bold to subtle; pure or so mixed that words can scarcely hope to follow their abstract flights of fancy. Against the magnitude of sunrise and sunset, rolling in great symphonies of hues, the smaller frets of our days lose significance and peace enfolds the spectator.

No doubt a master such as Chaucer would have cleverly brought these facets of the spring landscape to the attention of his readers and invited our plant pilgrims to point out how man comes to terms with the world about him. It's easy enough to trace our own virtues and failings, our contemporary attitudes in their responses to fundamental problems. Each one could offer tales of the triumph of the flower kingdom in its heyday of bloom.

The annual flowers: minute Sunshine, Goldfields, lavender Sand Verbena, Goldpoppy, white Evening Primrose, are the casual visitors, willing to stay only as long as they are served enough refreshment. Evidently some accurate weather forecast, unavailable to humans, gives guarantee before they will put in an appearance. They know to a nicety when the rainfall (heaviest in Arizona from July to December and a lighter dividend from December to March) has been furnished. The gaudy spring annuals bear witness to the claim, “Spring is a mighty serenade of color and good rains.” In a favored year, the Desert goes wild with color. Flowers appear like magic, almost overnight. They romp over the barren floor, rush up through rocky canyons, and take over the landscape. Tiny blossoms, pushed up by plants with almost no visible stem or stalk; larger ones which seem to be in such a hurry they discount the usual need for soil to root in. Blossoms pop out on shrubs, dead-looking a few hours before. This surge of life, so determined it might be frightening if these weren't our gentle flowers, bursts into color and deluges the earth. It's impossible to find words exaggerating the display when unusually plentiful rainfall has come and every condition is propitious. Each year the pattern of moisture, winds and temperature varies and the flower show takes its cue accordingly. Never cancelled, it is merely held in less general areas in even the driest of years. Using some cosmic ticker-tape, the word is spread that reservations are required. Goldpoppies sign on for this hillside or that rolling valley; Prickly Poppies take a lien on another area; Owlclover joins forces with Lupines or Other bright relatives for a choice corner, and Apricot Mallow or Four-o'-Clocks settle themselves for a short stay along roadside shoulders which take their liking.

Of this same gregarious company are spring bulbs. Deepset, they respond in great numbers when a big show is held. One year they seem to be everywhere and the next you must hunt them up in only the more luxurious resorts to pay your respects.

But whatever the clouds have done in the way of preparation, these early comers are soon on their way again, like rainbows before the hot sun. They run and hide, in seed or bulb, having no taste for lengthy litigations on water rights. Always welcome while they are with us, and remembered happily, we forgive them for being a little frivolous-fair-weather friends.

Made of sterner stuff, some desert dwellers refuse to escape from the threat of thirst and the overpowering possessiveness of the sun. Certain barrel cacti simply turn their back on the unpleasant fellow, growing on the shady side and developing an habitual lean toward the south, until we can count on them for a compass.

The Ocotillo undresses in the dry heat, tossing off its leaves and putting on clean ones if it should happen to rain again. In Spring, some properly clothed in apple green and hiding the spines, the rest in tight-fitting "jeans" (a green scaly bark), wear on every tip a cluster of the brightest red flowers and wave them about to be sure they are seen. Then it seems appropriate to address them by the full title Fougueria splendens and salute this member of one of the rare plant families.

We can't but admire those of our flowered friends who neither run off nor try to evade the issue, but simply grin and bear it. Knowing the days of drought are as sure as "death and taxes," they put something by. We speak of saving for a rainy day; they do it for the dry ones. Ribbed cactus expand and contract like an accordion; Prickly Pear pads wrinkle or fill out; and other foresighted ones fashion a home-made reservoir underground in swelled roots. If the ninety-eight percent by volume of water could be rung from a Saguaro weighing perhaps 8 tons, there'd be a pool big enough to swim in on the hottest of days.Every family, human or plant, has its housekeeping problems. Our interest is more apt to be in what it has to show for the effort. A blossom is a badge of accomplishment and prizes don't always go to the biggest competitor. Tiny barrels and hedgehog cacti, the whole plant fitting into a man's hand (but watch the spines!), may put out a miracle of design bigger than their whole bodies.

In contrast is the Agave, laboring for years to store up enough food to erect a bloom stalk maybe twentyfive feet tall and content to die after this platter of flowers is served up in the sky.

Fascinating as the desert is, our spring pilgrimage should take us higher. There'll be no sudden change and many leafed and ribbed companions accompany us. In fact, you may only notice, when you're well into the mesa lands, this splendid middle ground. The Saguaro is nowhere on the horizon and pine-covered rims are still just a faint dark line above. Foothills enfold the visitor and wide plains, sliced to individuality by arroyosor rock canyons, drop off at the side of the road to give a special flavor to the landscape. Sunshine is just as bright, but breezes temper its enthusiasm. A sudden shower blows away, leaving the scent of sage and, if you're in Indian Country, there may be the haunting odor of pinyon smoke. Sniff it a few times around a Navajo camp and you acquire a fondness for the pungent smell which years can't entirely efface.

The mesas of northern Arizona are, in more than one sense, a land apart. Among the junipers and pinyon pines, flowering shrubs have a durable beauty not found among the flighty annuals, to be accepted more wholeheartedly than the spiny cactus clan by most folks.

Probably the Cliffrose is the prettiest shrub of all. Surprise it at the edge of the Grand Canyon's South Rim, or any mesa setting, when leaves and branches are hidden by the creamy five-petaled flower with gold center, looking like a tiny rose and smelling like an orange blossom, and you'll agree. Later, the twisted habit, shaggy bark and general disheveled effect will be apparent, but it's the flowers we remember.

Serviceberry blooms almost as effectively but sooner. If you prefer more color, watch for the pink of Waxflower; the purplish red of the Redbud; greenishyellow of Mormon Tea and Greasewood or the yellow of Hollygrape, Squawbush or Groundsel.

These levels (roughly 4500 to 7500 feet above sea level-the Upper Sonoran Zone) have their own particular annuals as well, looking far too pretty to pick and very happy in their surroundings. The Ground Daisy, Baby Aster, Yellow Coneflower and Perky Sue are among the number, and for a dainty stab of red, the bright Red Gilia, which keeps on flowering from May clear to September.

There's nothing very strange about the fact that mountains are the last kind of country you think of when talking about Arizona. People came first to the Desert (since it's our youngest state, almost all the white inhabitants were newcomers once) and could never tear themselves away. Those who do filter up to mesas and canyons, or who head like an arrow on visits to the fantastically eroded and framed vistas from plateau lands, see no reason for leaving those solid satisfactions, either.

But don't forget the mountains. Spring is there, later and perhaps in more sober mood. Western Blue Flag spread out a carpet in wet meadows and Wild Geranium, a matting of tiny Phlox along the roads, and hosts of others carry the banner of color.

From the mountain tops, crags of the Chiricahuas, the forested Grahams, the meadow and wooded expanses of the lovely White Mountains, to just begin the list, all roads lead down. The pilgrim must now go back, reading with interest the second tales told on the route. And if, like Chaucer's own chronicles, some are left to hear, there will always be another spring.

When the work at your desk, whatever it be, grows dull, you have only to listen to the call of Arizona's awakening. Close your eyes and see the breezes tousling the heads of flowers on the Desert; evoke the smell of pinyon smoke, and catch the glimmer of sun on some distant peak. Then open them again and start off-on a pilgrimage into Spring.