Hi there, armchair travelers!

I was out walking in the desert this morning. Taking pictures. The cacti are interesting to look at. The saguaros look like mutant telephone poles scattered across the desert. When they die, their carcasses lie on the ground like a bundle of sticks. The chollas look all cute and fuzzy, in fact one variety is called the Teddy Bear cactus. But they are really very, very prickly. Their spines catch the sunshine and glow a pretty yellow, looking like they should be cuddled. When they die, they leave a hollow tube with vaguely diamond shaped holes in it. I walked toward the east and came to a small hill, actually it was more like a pile of boulders. I scampered up (Yeah, right. Me, scampering.) and took some pictures looking back west toward the campground. I spotted a couple of Organ Pipe Cacti on the side of a mountain. I think they should have been named Pipe Organ Cacti, but the naming committee didn’t consult me.

And while I was walking
and taking pictures
I was thinking.
The result is the poem below.


I never should have had a real job, you know.
It manacled my mind and put shackles on my soul.
But now that work is over, my mind has sprouted wings.
It flies above the clouds and thinks of awesome things.
I contemplate the breeze, and walk among the stars.
I hear Beethoven in my mind and hum a couple bars.

I haven’t got a quarter, I haven’t got a dime,
I haven’t got a penny, all I’ve got is time.
I’ve got time to walk the desert, time to hold your hand,
And time to watch the waves break gently on the sand.
I’ve got time to climb a mountain, time to bake a pie,
Time to watch the sun go down and catch a firefly.

My time is not for sale, it’s mine, and mine alone,
My time is precious to me, it’s everything I own.
Time cannot be captured, time cannot be made,
The best time of our lives is the time that we have played.
So keep your nickels, keep your dimes,
And I will take my own sweet times.