THE FLOWER PARADE IN THE GREAT SOUTHWEST

the FLOWER PARADE of the GREAT southwest

Top Billing for Spring = This year and Every Year-THE PARADE OF THE FLOWERS. A Dazzling Performance shown Only in the Great Southwest. Specially adapted Outdoor Theaters-Dramatic Settings from Below Sea Level in California Throughout Arizona = in Nevada, Utah, and New Mexico to over 14,000 feet in Colorado = will feature this Colorful Presentation of Wildflowers. If some such announcement were to appear on billboards, they might list M. Nature as Producer with Direction by Weather, Incorporated. The stage crew could include such veteran troupers as Old Sol Sunshine, Continued on page thirty-four

NOTES FOR PHOTOGRAPHERS FIRST PAGE OF COLOR INSERT

"SPRING-WHITE SANDS, NEW MEXICO" BY CHUCK ABBOTT. Photograph taken along the main road in White Sands National Monument, New Mexico. Here Yucca and Sand Verbena are shown blooming together. They bloom concurrently if there has been enough moisture to bring out the Verbena; even so, this does not happen every year and it is somewhat hard to come by both blooms at the same time. To find two good specimens in the same place is even harder.

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"ENCHANTED DESERT SPRING" BY JOSEF MUENCH. This photograph taken on the Papago Reservation in Southern Arizona. A sturdy Saguaro cactus stands among friends as Mesquite blossoms bend toward it and a Palo Verde tree blooms on its right. April is one of the best months for the flower parade in the desert regions of Southern Arizona, but the richness of the wild flower display depends on the season's rainfall. 4x5 Linhof camera; Ektachrome; f.16 at 1/25th sec.; 6" Xenar lens; late April.

"SPRING IN SAGUARO NATIONAL MONUMENT" BY JOSEF MUENCH. In the Saguaro National Monument near Tucson, along the main drive in the monument. The Catalina Mountains form a massive backdrop for forests of the Giant Saguaro (Carnegiea gigantea) with Prickly Pear blossoms (Opuntia engelmannii) in a frieze across the lower foreground. Saguaro National Monument encloses one of Arizona's most primitive and beautiful desert areas.

"OCOTILLO-BRIGHT BANNERS IN THE DESERT'S FLOWER PARADE" BY JOSEF MUENCH. Photograph taken along the Apache Trail, State Route 88. An Ocotillo (Fouqueria splendens) with its fiery red tips waving in every breeze at the end of long, prickly branches, is a thrill for the visitor. Green leaves come out after any rain and die off during dry spells, but the blossoms appear only in spring. Linhof 4x5 camera; Ektachrome; 5.15 at 1/50th sec.; 6" Xenar lens; early May."

"CALIFORNIA DESERT IN BLOOM" BY JOSEF MUENCH. Photograph taken in Coachella Valley, California, near La Quinta. Sand Verbena (Abronia villosa), a member of the Four O'Clock family, drape themselves casually over sand dunes, using sand ripples to add to their setting. The bright yellow of Encelia farinosa, the Brittlebush, one of the large Sunflower family, adds golden accents with desert ridges beyond to finish the skyline in this near sea level desert. 4x5 Graphic View camera; Kodachrome; f.22 at 1/10th sec.; 6" Ektar lens; late March."

"COLORFUL CARPETING-MOJAVE DESERT" BY JOSEF MUENCH. Photograph taken in the western part of the Mojave Desert, Southern California. California Poppies (Eschscholtzia californicus) mixed with the tiny Sunshines (Baeria gracilis) clothe rolling hills and flow in molten gold when spring invades the Mojave Desert. 4x5 Linhof camera; Ektachrome; f.22 at 1/25th sec."

"BLOSSOMING AGAVES IN THE RED ROCK COUNTRY" BY JOSEF MUENCH. Taken in Oak Creek Canyon-off the Schnebly Hill road. Against the colorful rocks in Oak Creek, the Agave commonly called Century Plant because it is so long in blooming, lift their great stalks. This Arizona Agave is Agave palmeri. They are members of the Amaryllis family. 4x5 Linof camera; Ektachrome; f.18 at 1/25th sec.; 6" Xenar lens; early June."

"SUMMER SCENE IN BRYCE CANYON NATIONAL PARK" BY DAVID MUENCH. Photograph taken in Aqua Canyon, Bryce Canyon National Park, Southern Utah. One of June's many yellow blossoms makes a delicate touch against the immensity of the Pink Cliff formations with the soaring Aquarius Plateau on the far skyline. 4x5 Graphic View camera; Ektachrome; f.30 at 1/25th sec.; 5 1/4" Tessar lens; June."

"PRICKLY PEAR AND CANYON DEPTHS" BY DAVID MUENCH. Photograph taken on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, from Cape Royal. A group of prickly leaved but delicately flowered Opuntias, the abundant Prickly Pear, here seems trying to peer over the rim into the very depths and adds its own spring accent to the grandeur of the outlook. 4x5 Speed Graphic camera; Ektachrome; f.27 at 1/10th sec.; 5 1/4" Tessar lens; June."

"MASSIVE WALLS OF ZION" BY JOSEF MUENCH. In Zion National Park, Southern Utah. Sentinel Peak rises to its dark capping in the background. Lacy racemes of the Prince's Plume(Stanleya pinnata) dress up a slope in this desert canyon, walled in by soaring cliffs. 4x5 Linhof camera; Ektachrome; f.22 at 1/10 sec.; 5" Xenar lens; May.

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"MOUNTAINS OF COLORADO" BY ESTHER HENDERSON. In Yankee Boy Basin, some thirteen miles southwest of Ouray, Colorado, by jeep up an old mining road to Yankee Boy Mine. This halcyon scene lies at an elevation of about 12,500 feet or close to timberline in the San Juan Mountains of Southwestern Colorado. Here, a multitude of dozens of varieties of mountain wildflowers, and mountain rivulets and streams interplay to form a natural garden of such composition that it almost looks as though it has been man-planted. 5x7 Deardorff View camera; Ektachrome; f.22 at 1/25th sec.; Commercial Ektar lens; late July; Weston meter reading 200; ASA rating 50.

"SPRING MORNING IN THE CALIFORNIA DESERT" BY JOSEF MUENCH. Taken in the Colorado Desert, California, with snow decorating the top of San Jacinto Peak. Broad-leaved Yuccas, with their splendid white blooms, add their spring touch to this scene made dramatic by the hint of winter on the mountains.

"BECKER LAKE IN SUMMER DRESS" BY WAYNE DAVIS. Becker Lake, about two miles north of Springerville, Arizona, in the White Mountains is a small, privately-owned lake well stocked with trout. August is a particularly pleasant time to visit the White Mountain area. Summer showers bring out carpets of wild flowers in the high mountain meadows.

"SPRING PARADE-CANYON LAKE" BY JOSEF MUENCH. Photograph taken from the edge of Canyon Lake along the Apache Trail, State Route 88 in central Arizona. Mesquite in bloom along the water's edge brings the season into focus in this scenic region.

"THE GOLDEN TIDE OF SUMMER" BY DARWIN VAN CAMPEN. Photograph was taken at Rainbow Lake in the White Mountains. Rainbow Lake is one of many small lakes dotting the high White Mountain area of eastern Arizona. This lake offers good trout fishing during the summer months.

"MOUNTAIN SUMMER" BY JOSEF MUENCH. Along the Million Dollar Highway in Southwestern Colorado, U.S. 550. This scene taken in Red Mountain Pass in the San Juan Mountains. The highly colored Red Mountain rises above conifers and here a little lake and a meadow of yellow and red flowers provide all the beauty that anyone could ask of summer in the highlands.

"YUCCAS AND CLIFFS-SOUTHERN UTAH" BY DAVID MUENCH. Photograph taken near Kanab, just off U.S. 89 in Southern Utah. A narrow-leaved Yucca (Yucca kanabensis), graceful panicles of lilies arching against the sky, vie with colored cliffs for the spectator's attention.

"DESERT AND MOUNTAINS OF SOUTHERN NEVADA" BY JOSEF MUENCH. Photograph taken from a road leading up to Charleston Park from Las Vegas in Southern Nevada. The Joshua Tree (Yucca brevifolia) has its wonderful moments in spring when almost every branch wears a panicle of tight, creamy-white buds. Here a forest of them stand on desert slopes with the Spring Mountains in the background.

"PURPLE CARPET-DESERT SAND" BY CLETIS B. REAVES. Photograph taken near Topock, Arizona on the old road between Kingman and Topock. Each spring around the first of April the desert is covered with wild Verbenas in some areas and California Poppies in others.

"GOLDEN DRAPES ALONG THE APACHE TRAIL" BY JOSEF MUENCH. The Apache Trail, State Route 88, offers many spectacular spring vistas when rains have been generous. Here the Gold Poppies, crowding bronze cliffs for their place in the sun, bring spring to a rugged slope. Saguaros can be seen from large to small on the hillside.

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"YUCCAS HERALD THE SEASON" BY JOSEF MUENCH. Photograph taken near Oracle Junction just off U.S. 89. June is the month of Yuccas on the Arizona desert foothills when Yucca elata is seen against green swords. The Catalina Mountains look particularly rugged as late afternoon light picks out highlights and makes shadows in the background.

H.T.O. Rain, and V. Wind. Temperamental artists, quite apt to shift scenes too fast, or too slowly, they can still be relied upon the Show must go on!

There is a good deal of the theatrical about Spring flower displays, taking the limelight right now in the Soutliwest. Nowhere could you find more superb stagesers. This spacious area includes some of the Nation's, if not the Globe's most spectacular landscaping. At this season, every view that eye or camera may capture, will sparkle with a third dimension-added by colorful and świdespread blossains.

They get undersway in February when Earth is préparing her new show. An undercoat of iridescent green is being laid on every backdrop-stippled in myriads of tiny leaves over barren ground, painted in a tender flash on bush and tree. There is just time enough, before the big enstain rises, to take a quick look over the stage of the Great Southwest.

To the south, we can include a generous portion of the Great American Desert. In California the continent drops to its lowest point-Death Valley, with abrupt lifts to more than 10,000-foot peaks in view. Through South southern Arizona the unique Giant Saguaro and Organ Pipe Cactus punctuate skylines traced with chiselled desert points. On slightly higher lands of Arizona, California and Nevada, great forests of Joshua Trees thrust out ragged, grotesque arms. Arizona's Painted Desert adds the brilliance of 180-million-year-old trees, turned to semi-precious stone, while in both California and Arizona, native palm trees living remnants of a past geologic age, flutter their fan leaves in canyon hideouts. Nevada provides its Valley of Fire-surrealistic scenery in out rageously vivid hues.

Desert and Basin Ranges of Arizona, Nevada, and New Mexico show off the startling contrast of cool wooded heights, that nourish unexpected floral oddities above sweeping desert gardens. Farther north, the land lifts to the Colorado Plateau the incomparably colored redrock country on its spacious platformslofty ranges, the San Francisco Peaks, the White Mountains, rising still higher and canyons, carving the tablelands into great mesas, buttes and plateaus, twisting at their feet. It is here that the master stream of the Southwest, the Colo rado, has laid bare a record of the ages in the mightiest canyon of all time. Its tributaries-Little Colorado, Green, Gila, San Juan, Escalante and Dirty Devil among themsupply variations without equal, of gorge and eroded rock. Looking past carefully spaced and magnificently carved sandstone figures of Monument Valley, the lac colithic Henry and Abajo Mountains beyond, hint at still more drama on the High Plateaus of Utah, looming over erosion-ravished canyons. Northeast a final shift of scenery picks out snowy peaks in Southwestern Colorado, where Spring will make her final stand among high forest meadows, to the muted orchestration of snow-fed streams and wind in the tree-tops.

As the Spring Flower Show opens, to see it all, you should really be like the general who jumped on his horse and rode rapidly in all directions. For the Wildflowers, harried from many an empty lot, field or open slope else where, keep their own unannounced and unpredictable schedule through still roomy theaters in the Southwest. Not even the most assiduous of press agents, without access to heavenly files on weather data, soil content, and available seed supply, could pinpoint just where, what Flowers will appear when. From happy experiences of some twenty-five Springs, we can at least suggest where the visitor might find his heart's desire in magic views and flower carpet and indi cate by months (when his vacation, may fall) what gen eral areas will be the worthiest goals. Now that Feb ruary's previews have led us into March's full-scale "pro ductions, they are being staged first in countless places of low elevation. Roadways, the less frequented the better, wear charm ing edgings, off-the-shoulder bouquets of varying tints. These are your sign-posts, leading off to flowery fields. Take a camera, sketchpad or painting kit as you leave the car. Golden disks of Desert Marigold may point on to bright clumps of Brittlebush-a luminous shrub of Creosotebush, pricked out in tiny yellow blossoms, usher you to the edge of dry wash or sand dune-where sud denly, legions of Lavender Sand-verbena and Evening Primrose fill the stage. Surely, you will say, each of the almost prostrate plants, draped over wind-designed rip ples, was assigned to just that place in dress rehearsal. Yellow Coreopsis or Desert Dandelion by contrast, bring out the delicate tones and a sudden gust of wind assaults the nostrils with their fragrance.

If you are in Southern California's Coachella Valley, the frosty tips of Mt. San Jacinto, Santa Rosa or San Gorgonio make incredible backdrops. Tall Palm Trees stand waiting in the wings.

Dunes near the Colorado River crossing at Yuma set a stage of their own, their strange, wind-carved architectural forms providing foreground, middle and background in great swells and swoops. Troupes of the Primrose and choruses of Sand-verbena transmute the golden sands into velvet draperies, and the entire scene into a Springtime Fantasy.

Or one plant of pink to purple Verbena, one white-starred Primrose, half its shapely buds unopened, may claim the stage alone, with just its shadow for accompaniment as blossoms and leaves take their bow in the passing breeze.

Both the Sand-verbena and Evening Primrose (a whole family from small to 5-foot shrubs) do turns in many locations and through a long season. One unforgettable appearance of the Sand-verbena is against blinding gypsum in New Mexico's White Sands National Monument. By day or in the Moon's pale spotlight, they are graceful prima donnas in a floral ballet.

Now, too, is a wonderful time to visit Death Valley, as it comes to life in flowers. An amazing number of plants, as well as human beings, find the weather still pleasantly cool. Really, only the Salt Flats and Devil's Cornfield remain untenanted.

Since moisture is at a premium here, most flowers keep their distance, politely permitting the next to have its share. You may, however, when rains have been generous, see great alluvial fans washed with gold of the Desert Sunflower, or they may be massing on the slopes of Daylight Pass. Chinese Lanterns and blue Phaecelia, as well as breezy Creosotebush and a choice of nine different Evening Primroses make Death Valley Spring headquarters. You can pick out the Mormon Tea by its attendant cloud of insects, sparring for turns at the tasty nectar of small yellow blossoms.

Though concerned as we are primarily, with mass effects, where flowers seem to actually transfigure the landscape by sheer profusion and color, we must point out a few cases of individualistic plants which claim curtain-calls. Among these is Enceliopsis grandiflora, called the Panamint Daisy for its fabulous appearances in rocky canyons on the western slope of that Range. Justly named "most impressive composite of the Desert," it rises in numerous tall stems from a basal tuft of excitingly blue-green tinted and veined leaves. Great yellow saucers of the flowers may be six inches across. Strategically spaced, they seem to light up their surroundings with an inner glow.

An only slightly less dazzling variety can be seen by driving down Kingman Wash (near Hoover Dam) toward Fortification Mountain. From their box seats on stone terraces, the unusually colored plants and elegant heads seem to rather look down on Brittlebush and Dandelion. At the same time, over in Arizona's Sonora Desert,

10 o'clock, when the sun is well started on the day's work, and later still if the sky be cloudy, will Eschscholtzia californicus deign to open its eyes. At 4 o'clock, as though by floral-union regulation, it goes back to sleep again.

There are special years when the Eschscholtzia, in numerous slight variations from the big handsome californicus, assumes the leading role in many landscapes. They may be in Arizona, Nevada or Southern Utah as well as the home state. Often combining with a favorite opposite player, the Lupine, or with pinky-purple Owl's Clover, it weaves paisley-shawl patterns on slopes or runs through valleys like molten gold, mixed with baser metals. When rainfall has been plentiful, Iowa Canyon, in the Black Mountains of Western Arizona, is a whole springtime in itself. Along State 84, it storms slopes below Picacho Peak, aided and abetted by the Hummingbird Bush. Iridescent hummers, hovering above the bright red flowers might be miniature bombers, summoned to make an aerial attack. Depending evidently on what terms they can get for showy engagements, the Poppies appear at one or another of the open plains approaching Boulder City, on either the Nevada or the Arizona side of the Colorado River. Some years the spot is closer to Kingman, other years south of it, bordering U. S. 66. Slim years for the Poppies, following niggardly winter rains make them tighten their belts but doesn't discourage them entirely. South of Willcox, Arizona, within sight of Cochise's Stronghold, we came one Spring upon a tremendous field of gold a mat of flowers with stems so short the blossoms were bumping their chins on the ground. They were Goldpoppies, having evidently shared rations so each had enough to produce a flower, but no extra to squander on mere stem or leaves. And I must admit they were a bright and cheery lot - a credit to the Family.

If April afforded you just one flower trip in Arizona, so that you had to gather all of Spring in one basket - you could garner it in a single glorious day along the Apache Trail, the scenic State Route 88. I do not claim that every flower grows there, but reaching on either side of the winding road is a matchlessly laid out desert rock garden within the ruggedness of the Superstition Mountains. This is "theater" of a superior rank. Saguaros poke skyward, Ocotillos wave their red flowers, as brilliant as my lady's polished fingernails. The Mariposas, wearing the most vivid of all Spring's shades, flaunt their orange-red cups on hillsides. Lupines flood side arroyos and the delicate little Stonecrop nestles its leaves among rocks to lift heads of red or yellow from any niche that seems to require decorating. Just where they will show off best, swathes of Brittlebush cover outlooks across blue water, backed by colorful Cliffs along Canyon or Apache Lake while red Penstemon or waving sheaves of Mesquite flowers and Yuccas of various varieties, line up along the water's edge and still others bank the steep hillsides. Each turn of the road calls for fresh applause and, as surely, there will be the called-for encore just beyond.

But before April is gone, a family we have purposely neglected because there is so much to say of it-The Cactus most stagestruck group in any Spring Parade, must be mentioned.

This large and versatile family real home talent, for it is indigenous only to the Americas does NOT in clude every desert plant with "stickers," popular belief to the contrary. It's so varied in size, form, structure and flower, that its admirers (and others) may be excused for confusion.

The Saguaros and Organ Pipes, behemoths starring on any stage they occupy, are quite limited in range. Smaller varieties, more adaptable though less conspicuous, have wandered far afield from the warm desert lands. One, the Mound Cactus, Echinocereus coccineus, is at home clear up into the Rocky Mountains, four to six thousand feet above sea level. When there, its blooming time is delayed till June, but farther south and at low altitudes (Cochise County, Arizona eastward into New Mexico, for example) its bright red blossoms are the first of the family's to open. Even discounting the attractive little faces, peering up from a bed of spines, this plant is weird and wonderful. There may be anywhere from a few to 500 "stems" growing in a tight community in turtleback shape.

The Cacti seldom bloom en masse, as do Poppies, Lupine, Brittlebush or the tiny Goldfields, but even one or a mere scattering of plants, has such vivid and dis tinctive flowers that they can be the most conspicuous element on a whole landscape. This is especially true of the big Barrels, when they wear a crown of red or yellow blossoms, like a lei of friendship for all the world to see. The Beavertail, too, covered with magenta flowers, catches the eye like bright banners from afar. From early Spring clear into September, you might almost make a flower calendar, using different varieties of Cactus alone to mark the advance of the seasons. Since, however, variations in timing are to be expected, with altitude and exposure having their say, we might better simply hint at some of the high spots in their repertoire. Beginning in March, one wild desert garden of note is in San Gorgonio Pass, Southern California. On rocky platforms the California Barrels, along with Beavertails and Pincushions, bring out their yellow wreaths in almost profusion. Above across the pass, Mt. San Jacinto may still wear a jaunty snowcap and whether the air is stabbingly clear or misty, as sometimes does happen, the spectator feels he is suspended high in some other world, a realm where form and color are the only verities.

In April the Beavertails demand attention on the plains north of Wickenburg, make eye-catching accents near Parker Dam, and you may even see them deep in the Grand Canyon, like one clump we caught peering over a dizzy edge, with the brown river sheer below. It is May when the Saguaros, the Organ Pipes and the very shy Nightblooming Cereus come into flower. Down in the Organ Pipe National Monument, where all three occur, this time of year is certainly the climax of beauty in the Arboreal Desert. The Saguaro flowers must usually be admired from a distance, for the plant grows about fifty years before reaching the maturity of blossoms. Then, unless a branch curves down conveniently, the waxy-white flowers, two to three inches across, are out of reach. When calling on them, remember that they usually open at about 8:00 P.M. and close again the next morning around 5:00. At tips of the branches, there can be dozens on each arm, opening not at all at once and busy, as soon as they close at work making fruit for July.

The Organ Pipe Cactus is also a nightbloomer, smaller than the Saguaro and a greenish-purple. It appears here and there down the columnar stem and seems more profuse in flowering below the border.

You have to be in luck to come upon the Nightblooming Cereus Penicereus greggi. This plant, that looks like an old dead stick for most of the year, literally hides in other desert shrubbery, no doubt aware of its shabbiness. But some night in May, a very heavy fragrance on the air will lead you by the nose to a really thrilling experience. The flower, four to five inches across, is a dazzling, moonlight-white, with the most fragile of petals and a bewitchingly intricate center, pistil and stamens of gossamer. The whole exotic creation will be opening gracefully, but fast enough to discern, if you get there before midnight. After that, it will be closing, with the same, unhurried, deliberate action, while the Desert all around is permeated with the most delightful of odors.

The Chollas, many of them abloom in June, are a motley crew. Some big as trees, some with a nimbus that makes them look like and be called "Teddy Bears," they are none of them, safe toys for children. They grow in great droves in the Colorado, the Mojave, the Sonoran deserts. You will find them sharing honors with the Trees in Joshua Tree National Monument, and in all the country around. In Arizona they populate miles on either side of the highway near Florence Junction, along the Apache Trail, or between Kingman and Wickenburg.

In fact, most desertscapes seem to have at least some of one variety or another, from little stickery pencils to lolling bushes, more than man-height. Some have yellow blossoms, not large or particularly showy. The plant's excessive number of unkind spines, and their tendency to break off in joints, attaching themselves to shoes, clothes, or person of the passerby, reduces their charm. One feels that some of their little, habits are not quite cricket. I like some of the brownish flowers, or those which are an off-shade of red. Bright yellow seed pods, strung almost like outsized grapes, on certain varieties, and persisting for months, are their most attractive features.

June still finds many of the Prickly Pears, most widespread and probably best known of the Cactus family, continuing to bloom. Here, too, we have a genus of great variety. Pads may be like great green platters, and all the way from spineless to a wicked assortment of tiny ones that remain in your fingers because you can't find them with anything short of a powerful magnifying glass. But the flowers are lovely. Yellow, red, magenta, sometimes yellow with rich brown inside the cup and petals crinkled like tissue paper, they clamber all over the plant. Not until July do the big Arizona Barrels achieve their crown of glory, but it is worth waiting for. In fact, all of the barrels, from big to some you can hold within the cup of your hand (with due caution), are frankly armed against aggression, but harmless as a rose unless you defy the plain warning. They rank as among the most interesting members of the Cactus Family. Strictly speaking, one may question the propriety of including trees among the wildflowers, but what would spring in the Desert be without the Palo Verde, the Smoke Tree, or the Ironwood?

One Palo Verde, a blazing ball of gold with a Saguaro jauntily poking an arm up through it, is all a camera lens can accommodate, or a pair of eyes, either. Neither trunk nor branches, and certainly no leaves, can be seen it is all just flower merging in a shining cloud. This is Arizona's state tree. Approaching one of them, one hears a very determined hum, reminiscent of a powerline. Bees in swarms are invading the blossoms, making the very sound of Spring. From a distance, as Palo Verdes follow the windings of many a wash they put a sparkle into the landscape that will be sure to delight you-driving through California Deserts, up the Black Canyon Road north of Phoenix, in the Valley of the Sun and many other Desert routes.

Wisteria-like flowers of the Ironwood make it another memorable sight, and to add a third, the Mesquite, with yellow fingers of bloom, is to merely touch upon features coming as extra dividends when you watch the Spring Flower Parade in the Southwest.

As we move onto higher ground, many of the desert dwellers climb with us in new combinations and in different settings. We will find new ones as well. There is the Western Coral Bean, Erythrina flabelliform, seldom found in flower guides and hard to locate in the Desert. It does make a striking accent using rocks behind it, to show off the brilliant red raceme of flowers-in Texas Canyon, between Benson and Willcox.

On U. S. 60, traveling between Globe and Show Low, the Salt River Canyon can be counted on for scenic adventures. Since the highway pushes to the rim, switchbacks down one side and up and up the other, after crossing on a bridge, the view changes by the minute.

The canyon slopes, on the south side, are a tangle of shrubbery and unless you take time to follow a trail, you'll never know about the Daturas with immense trumpets of white, Penstemon with bright red bells, that hide in big gullies which head abruptly down toward the river. Below the bridge, both upstream and downstream, more flowers reveal themselves to the unhurried traveler. There are big bunches of Prickly Pears, almost at the rocky dropoff into a noisy waterfall, and back against the cliff, just last. May, we found Ocotillos leaning out to draw attention to their flaming tips. There were Agaves, painstakingly building a tall flower stalk, scheduled for Jone unveiling. Downstream, numerous small but shining shrubs of Palo Verdes framed views of the stream in its deep gorge.

A little farther north is the Petrified Forest National Monument. This is not the place to expect a great show of flowers, but those which do appear are doubly impressive for that very reason. A small Yucca, husbanding its beauty in one delicate raceme, on the brink of the many-tinted Blue Forest lookout, is a sight I shall always remember, as well as occasional clumps of the Sego-lily (in its yellow form) glowing at the base of the scattered rainbow logs.

Now, wherever you wander over the Southwestern mesas, the air is crystal clear, skies blue and flowers underfoot. There are Scarlet Buglers, White Penstemon and purple and pink, Indian Paintbrush in old rose, saimon and yellowish-red. In secret damp spots the white Stream Orchid is greenish, and the Mayflower a dainty pink.

Streams and pools in Zion National Park show duckweed --smallest of all flowering plants, on open sage flats-the Fritillary or ministare Leopard lily brownishpurple with yellow spots. The Sand Dock is an unusual red on the Navajo Reservation, its leaves brilliant green sgainst the colored sand. The Hopis will be gathering Delphinium to make sacred blue bread. Along roadside Buckwheat is pink or white, Mallow apricot. The Broomrape, with no green in its makeup is yellowish and more flowers than you could possibly name are bright and shiny yellow. Don't be discouraged at finding so many "strangers" in the floral gardens of the Southwest. There are 3200 plants to be known in Arizons alone and some of the other states, New Mexico, for one, claim того.

An easy one to recognize and remember is the Pricklepoppy, white-petaled with center as yellow as egg-yolk. Some years it makes a solid field at the feet of the Vermilion Cliffs in House Rock Valley. Big and showy as a cultivated Poppy its leaves and stems are like the thistle.

Another one, hard to forget is the lovely Cliffrosebeauty-queen among Southwestern mesa shrubs. Dainty yellow flowers cover a shaggy barked and scraway wooded shrub, and the delicate fragrance makes you for get completely its ragged appearance for much of the rest of the year. The South Rim of the Grand Canyon and Monument Valley, among the big red rock formations, are among its favorite places.

At Sunset Crater, if you will walk at least a ways up the loose cinder slopes, you'll meet saucy champs of Red Gilia, ethereal Fairy Duster and Apache Plume. In Zion Canyon you can't miss the lacy strands of the Prince's Plame.

When we think of Yuccas, in their varied shapes and blooms, we are reminded of New Mexico. The state flower, it is also burdened with common names most confusing because you never know which one of the striking plants the user wants to indicate. Safer as a guide, are the shapes and sizes. The Banana Yucca, for example, bas an immense seedpod, hardly edible but shaped like that fruit. Its fowers sit deep in broad leaves, sharp and stiff as a sword. There are smaller, narrow-leaved Yuccas, with dainty steras and fragile flowers, and the great tall, branched ones that carry torches of white lilies--ten and more feet high into the air. They sil have a singular beauty and it is a rare treat to drive for miles in open country of their special state, where the towering panicles stand against the sky.

Utah's State Flower, the Sego Lily frequents flats and slopes from 3500 feet to 4500 feet. Cream colored with purple eye spot it differs markedly from the more flamboyant Mariposa. Its bulbs are edible, as are those of Ajo (onion) or Desert Lily-for which the town in Southern Arizona is named. In Utah, Sego Lily bulbs staved off starvation for the Mormons in the early pioneer days, before other crops could be raised.

By June we should be heading for the mountains, where Spring is just stirring through the forests, streams are full to overflowing and the fragrance of pine makes you breathe deep and long. But take one look back to the Desert for the Smoke Tree is blooming in the washes. Gone is the soft gray of this leafless little treethat really does look like smoke across the flats. In its place, a deep blue covers the prickly form. Soon the tiny

petala will be dropping by the thousand, to pave the ground with lapis lazuli.

As we climb, leaving the Juniper-pifion belt, where Yuccas stand guard and Agaves lift tall stalks from last year, the thin round thrust of the Sotol bows in the breeze and the Nolinas go from pale blossom to brilliant yellow (Yucca-like) panicles, we come by pleasant changes into higher woods. Ponderosa Pine and Aspen, then Douglas fir and Limber Pine and even find the not too common Bristlecone, until all the earth seems mantled with forest, casting shade over the opening flowers. "Then, if ever," says the post, "come perfect days."

Each zone has its favorite children, though the shift from one elevation belt to another is as gentle as the blossoms themselves. If you are familiar alike with the relative elevations and the conmunities of plants which grow there, you can almost close your eyes and say what colors and shapes the little actors will take around the next bend of the ascending highway.

Nor it is only in Colorado, "where mountains are mountains," that you will find all the delights of mountain air, including dwellers of the Canadian and Hudsonian life zones. Speaking generally, the Transition Zone, just above the Upper Sonoran, is from 6500 to 8,000 feet; next-the Canadian, from there to 9500, and the Hudsonian on up to 11,500. Beyond, the true Alpine conditions, and few roads are found.

Throughout the Southwest, the mountains seem to lift themselves by their own bootstraps. Within the hour, after leaving the glitter of The Strip in Las Vegas, you can pass out of the desert, up through Joshua Forests framing glimpses of Charleston Peak and reach flowered woodlands with the 11,970-foot summit not too far above. From Tucson up into the highland of Mount Lemmon is another short drive, or from Sulphur Springs Valley to the "botanical island" of the Chiricahuas, where Alaskan Orchids grow, is no lengthy ride. So it is with Graham Mountain, the San Francisco Peaks, the green top of the Kaibab on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, or from Moab up into the La Sal Mountains of Southern Utah.

Among Ponderosa Pine and Aspen in New Mexico's part of the Apache National Forest, fields of Lupines, spreads of yellow genestra, the wild rose, snowberry, wild hops and Columbine find mountain stream and high forest pleasant places in which to spend their time -- as will you.

On Utah's High Plateaus, sheaves of Yellow Primrose drape rocky slopes and the Bluebells of Scotland ring in the season on the lonely top of Boulder Mountain. As you approach the lofty platform, wild roses and chokecherries play among the dandelions and Columbine.

Colorado is, of course, the ultimate home of the Columbine, which it claims for its state flower. Blooming from lower foothills clear up to timberline, it is bigger, deeper blue, and at the very peak of its charm, under the shade of the chattering Aspens.

Arizona's eastern mountains-The Whites and Blues and highlands pushing across the border into New Mex ico, bring out their own parade of flowers. The pale Iris is first in claiming glades and clearings among the Ponderosa, followed by a steady stream of spring beauties and summer lovelies until Sunflowers and Coneflowers show their bold faces almost until autumn takes over.

And so goes the Parade of Flowers. From level to level, from week to week, through the lengthening days, Spring and then Golden Summer have put on their big act. The stage is so immense, and the players so numerous, we could hardly hope to do them all justice. But wherever you may choose to make your flower pilgrimage, through the Desert-more wonderful every time you go onto the meses, those serene terraces leading like Jack's Beanstalk to another beautiful country above-you will be in the satisfying company of blossoms.

From wonderful views on Colorado's Uncompagbre Plateau, or in the San Juans and the La Platas, down to the continent's lowest spot in California, the Great Southwest is the Place and Spring is the time, to see The Parade of The Flowers.