A Sunset reflection

We're safe in Flagstaff, and now have internet access up and running. Yeah! Already there is much to report - from the drive down through Idaho and Utah, to our two (short) hiking excursions, to our adventures in downtown. I said in an earlier post that I left my heart in San Francisco, but it's starting to catch up to me here in Flagstaff. The aromatic desert air, the colors of the sky at sunset, the smell of an approaching storm, brilliant flashes of lightning, and hiking trails galore- including a trail leading to Mt. Elden that starts at the end of our street - all combine to make Flagstaff one of our favorite destinations to date. Of course, we could never replace the wonderful friends we made in Palo Alto and Olympia, and we miss San Francisco and walking to downtown Olympia, but there is something about the desert that quiets the soul - that exudes peace.

Yesterday, I picked Ted up from his last day of classroom orientation, and we headed to Sunset Crater for a short hike. Our timing was perfect - the sun was just beginning to sink behind the San Francisco mountains, and the nearly full moon glowed behind the pink and orange tip of Sunset Crater. Sage and cedar filled the air with a sweet and musky aroma while we wound our way through lava rocks and cinder. Though Sunset Crater erupted in 1065 A.D., we passed a tree with a volcanic rock melded into its roots - meaning that that particluar tree has been around since the time of the eruption! Touching its smooth, driftwood like branches and running our hands through the slowly decaying mulch at its base was like touching a moment in time. I could almost see the terror of the Sinagua people who used to inhabit the valley as the ground began to shake - see the lava as it crashed through farm land, houses, trees and boulders on its innocently destructive course - see the simmering molten lava and the black ash as it fell for years after the eruption, forcing the people to move into new territories.

And yet, in the peaceful moment of a warm sunset, touching a thousand year old tree, looking out at the forest regenerating in the crater, and brilliant red flowers growing in the cinder - I could see how beautifully the landscape had been shaped in the centuries following the destruction. I thought, too, of the Sinagua people, whose new home we had visited a few days before in the cliff dwellings of Walnut Canyon. They, too, had adapted to a new environement, learned to make their homes in cliffs and to grow crops on the sides of mountains. Their cliff homes are empty now too, the stones they used worn white as the bark of the incredible tree by the centuries. Yet, their cliff dwellings, like the remnant of their valley dwellings, remain a windswept testament to our ability to adapt, to live in harmony with what is around us, and to move forward from areas of destruction to small, carefully carved havens of peace.

Posting By: Rebecca
Photos By: Ted (Taken during our June 2004 trip to AZ)