I knew I missed Arizona, but I didn’t realize how much I missed Arizona. Our first stop after leaving the Phoenix airport was to head to Filibertos for a breakfast burrito, but forgetting their monstrous size was a wasteful, rookie mistake. Full, and tired from the early morning journey from Austin, we made the sluggish commute in an unfamiliar rental car through the desert, then ponderosa forest, enjoying the changing biodiversity en route to Flagstaff.
After moving to Texas almost three years ago our environment has been limited to humid hill country, with sprawling live oak trees and oppressive heat, lacking in the sharp peaks and valleys that we had grown accustomed to in Washington, Alaska, and Arizona. I’ve grown fond of my life in Texas, with friends and neighborhood familiarity, a good library job and routine, but I’m out of contact with the outdoors and it pains me. I feel unmoored. We try to get out of town to neighboring cities for concerts, festivals and outings, but overcompensating with cultural activities isn’t grounding in any meaningful way. So we’ve traveled further away to inspire awe.
While living in Texas we have had the privilege of visiting London, Dublin and New York City, and none of them, with all their treasures, heritage, and architectural mastery, have matched the natural beauty of Arizona. As much as I love a good museum in a major city, nothing beats gawking at a 1 mile-wide meteor crater with friends, or a gondola ride to the top of a mountain in Flagstaff with the sweet, excited children you’ve known since birth. A hot trek around Sedona for an aura reading with your best girls is sometimes exactly what is needed to achieve balance. Clutching selenite in a mineral shop to clear blocked energy sometimes works!!
Perhaps what I’ve been missing most are the deep connections we’ve built with dear friends over the years, connections that are severed when we receive orders. As a military spouse, I’ve quietly grieved the loss of roots and long-term community for nearly 12 years. I surrendered my stability to support a service member and the consequences of that decision continue to challenge my concept of place and belonging, and they’re beginning to do the same to my children. It can be very painful. But in a period of doubt and insecurity for us all, there is no better way to restore balance than to return to a place that brings joy, inspires awe, and fosters connection to dear friends. Even if just for a four-day. Thank you Arizona, and Austins!
We recently had a great time picking pumpkins and produce at Apple Annie’s u-pick produce in Willcox, Arizona. Our delicata squash was delicious, and our Apple Butter jar emptied quickly. But the pumpkins didn’t last as long as I wish they had. 
They drove the dogs crazy, and just before our dinner get together with friends, Moose slipped through the gate and went after the javelinas. He chased them into a ravine, then up into the hills. We gave chase up the hill, but all I could see was Moose leaping above the knee-high grass, tail wagging, tongue swinging, and face filled with glee. I couldn’t see the javelinas, or their reactions to his attempt to turn strangers into friends.
Dogs and peccaries do not mix. And pumpkins are not for peccaries, although that rule is a hard one to enforce. Guess we’re going to have to settle for ceramic, plastic or inflatable jack-o-lanterns here in Arizona.
Yea Yea Pueblo 