We got lucky; the desert was blooming when we arrived.
For those who travel into nature, you know that what you see, is often about when you see.
No advanced planning to take credit for— we happened to roll into Saguaro National Park right at the perfect time of year— when the elusive desert flowers were out in force.
Thanks to our typical Ridiculously Early National Park Wakeup, it was still dawn when we arrived— early enough to see the night’s flowers before the morning sun withered them away. Saguaro cacti flowers are so delicate, they generally only live through one night before being scorched into wilting the very next day.
Which means the birds and the bees only have one night to pollinate them, and humans only have a few hours in the morning light to see them.
The flowers inside Saguaro National Park also have the distinction of being set against a brutalist backdrop— thorns, cacti spines, and scorpions are everywhere. There’s a partly-accurate, partly-snarky truism that ‘everything in the desert is trying to kill you’ (the sun included)— but there’s something about the desert in-bloom that feels less unsettling.
Slightly less.
Still, it rightly feels just a little bit dangerous all the time— my body seemed to tense a little in reaction to all the spiny-ness around me. Backing up a few steps in Saguaro National Park could be treacherous, so I found myself squaring my shoulders to the direction I wanted to move. In this park, facing forward was a must.
We did a few short hikes in the park, determined to exit by the time the mercury hit 93 degrees, which was supposed to be no later than 11 AM. In April. I couldn’t imagine visiting this park much past the May timeframe and doing any lengthy hiking (without extreme preparation).
There’s a reason everyone loves the Saguaro cacti— when you gaze at their limbs, it’s impossible not to anthropomorphize them. Some look to be waving, others to be pointing, and like the clouds, if you stare long enough, you can find shapes in the irregular ones.
The personalities I imagined for the cacti weren’t at all what I was expecting. While these spindly, alien plants might look silly or cartoonish in pictures (or in the gift shop toys)— reality was far different than the backdrop to a Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote chase scene.
Their presence was stately.
And for good reason— if they were actually people, Saguaro cacti would be old folks— in order to begin growing any limb, they have to be over 70 years old. The eldest towered above us, giants that grew by the millimeter and somehow managed to outpace us in the process.
They dotted the entire landscape of the valley we visited, defying my expectation of a lone cacti or two standing in isolation. The long view looked like a brittle brush head, hundreds of cacti resembling rusted metal bristles, bent but still strong.
Its harshness broken up by little dots of red, yellow, and white flowers.
Posted by Sun
