[Organ Pipe Cactus]

We are roughly two-thirds of the way through our long and event-filled road trip.  As I write this, I’m sitting in a Starbucks, about 263 dusty, windy and empty miles from Tucson.  According to my four weather apps on my iPhone, it’s going to be nearly 80 F today.

We need warmth.  I’m still wearing fleece in the evening.  I’m not shocked by that fact.  As a science teacher for over thirty years, I know that deserts aren’t defined by temperature, but by rainfall.  And we haven’t experienced very much precipitation since it snowed on us in Silver City, NM.

This is the country of the cactus.  I bought a small field guide-book to the shrubs of the Southwest but I can’t keep up with all the varieties of cacti I have seen in the past week or so.

I took many photos of many succulents and I will spend weeks back in the Adirondacks, during our brief summer, identifying them and filing the images away on my 32 MB memory sticks.  I’m sure I’ll find plenty of uses for those close-up pics of spines and spikes, so threatening and so full of that dangerous “Hey, you…yeah you.  Come a little closer and test me…” attitude.  Those spines could sever your Femoral artery.

So, has the trip recharged me?  Has it calmed and satisfied my restless nature?  Am I happiest on the road?

Yes and No would be my answer.  The “bed” in our rPod is making my back feel post-operative.  The “shower” is located in the “bathroom”, but I’ve only used the shower head assembly once since we bought this RV in 2013.

I’m still restless.  I haven’t found what it is I’m looking for on the byways of the South and Southwest America.  I’m not even sure what I’m trying to find…but I have some hope, meager and thin, but filled with promise that there is a place in the Mojave Desert that may be the Jordon River of my creeping old age.  I’ve read about a place of healing and mental regeneration.  I’m heading there.

“I hear the aging footsteps, like the motion of the sea.

Sometimes I turn, there’s someone there…other times it’s only me…”

     –Bob Dylan Every Grain of Sand

I’ll let you know when I get there.  I’ll tell you whether I can wash away the sins of my youth and misspent middle age in the mineral springs of this, most mythic place.  I’ll even post photos.

I’ll tell you the truth about how to cure a cracked and flawed psyche.

And then, I’ll begin posting another set of blogs about our return trip.

Please follow me…read me…and “like” me on Facebook and/or WordPress.  Sometimes I feel I’m a disk-jockey, playing the tunes and spinning the vinyls…late in the night…but the broadcast tower is broken or no one has their radio turned on at that lonely hour…

[Saguaro cactus]