K-9 afternoon

Watching the men with their dogs late yesterday afternoon, I was struck with the amazing comraderie that exists, not only among the men but between the men and those dogs. The Scottsdale Police routinely visit neighborhoods and "show their sturr" all the while using the experience as an opportunity to further train. These dogs are from Holland where they are used much more extensively than here. At age 2, they are shipped over to the US and begin their particular training. The dogs we saw are used to snip out bombs, drugs, and bad guys in general. They BITE! So, moral of the story, don't be the one they are looking for because you WILL BE BITTEN! One of the dogs had been shot through the neck. He is completely recovered. the black one is half German Shepherd, but that breed they try to avoid because of hip-displasia. These dogs are Belgium something. They are very intent and obviously very intelligent. It was awesome to get to see them "in action" and the police were most accommodating. They admitted that theirs is a job very envied and sought after. The dogs stay with their handler for a maximum of 5 years as working dogs. After that, they are retired, and the handler has first option of acquiring them. About $10,000 is initially invested in them before they are street ready.

love affair with the desert

When I was 6 years old, bent over with both heels and both hands glued to the prickly pin-points of a cholla cactus, my dad coming to my rescue with his trusty pliers, I began a hate affair with the desert that has lasted nearly 60 years. Oh, it is not all the subtleties and nuances of the desert per se that I have always detested. It's not the violent windstorms and the crazed thunderstorms and the wild rainstorms replete with slashing lightening. Those I have always loved. It's not the sunsets and the sunrises. It's not the javelina. It's not even the coyotes. It IS the horrid rattlesnakes (of which I have personally killed 3 in our backyard) and it IS the wretched cactus. At least until about 3 weeks ago when I was introduced to the Secret Garden. Riding my bicycle one day, a gated community became accessible when the gate opened and I dashed inside in that brief moment after the car had slipped past. Little did I know but I had just begun a journey that would lead me to completely change how I view cactus. Go figure. It was one of those chance encounters. I met a lady hiking who had stashed her bicycle behind the large rock I was seriously contemplating (it had a huge circle cut into its side...obviously prehistoric.) She asked me if I was familiar with the arboretum inside the subdivision.

When I professed ignorance, she said "well, just follow me and I'll show it to you." and since that morning, I have been fanatically taking pictures of cactus whenever the opportunity arises and in the process have come to realize that even they are possessed of beauty I never saw before. Kind of a renaissance of wonder.

Sunday with Packages From Home Riders

Today was a bit different from ALL other days in that I spent the better part of it following about 35-40 bikers from bar to bar on a benefit ride for Packages From Home. with Christina, who was officially taking photographs (as I was, UNOFFICIALLY). Many of them were veterans and all of them had a very obvious commitment to supporting our troops. I find it most disconcerting when someone dresses like a very tough guy and yet has such a soft heart....the women equally so. They were all strangely genteel. Anyway, below are some of the photos I took.

peace in the courtyard.

I took my guitar out this morning and practiced a good while. 

the irises, both purple and white are popping up. 

St. Francis lends a contemplative aire. 

Crocuses 

the little deer belongs to St. Francis 

the geraniums are resplendent and the dalias are coming along... 

Scotties in their "summer" enclave. They seem to like it quite a lot.

I went to the church this morning to practice with the choir...all 3 of us, a soprano, base and me, the alto. Leya has written both pieces we'll be singing. I asked who Chalice was, the name at the right corner of each page, thinking it was the composer, and assuming he was from somewhere in the 15th c. as that's what the music sounded like, but it was in fact her and that is her maiden last name. Wow. I was SO impressed. The music is very beautiful. Each time I drive up to that Anglican church, I am astounded that I have grown so to love being there. It is so peaceful, and I feel that at last I am beginning to hear truth spoken, without  accolades, without pomp, without all the trimmings of evangelical Christianity. Just simple and mind-blowing  and the music is deep, old and always exquisitely beautiful. Yes, for the first time in way too many years, I look forward to "going to church". I even have my own prayer book, compliments of my dear husband. 

Inside he wrote: " Gwenn Murie McCaleb-whose life has always been a liturgy of rich and royal hue...

Gary McCaleb 14 March, 2012 " He is beyond precious and he makes me feel very loved.

 And this is what I found in the backyard late yesterday afternoon...all of the above.