There is nothing bluer than an Arizona sky in Spring.  Well, perhaps a New Mexico Spring sky... but as I'm 2 miles from the AZ/NM border as I write this the sky overhead belongs to both states.  Blue as can be.  Not a cloud to mar the blueness. Against the pink rock and yellow-green and sage-green lichens the sky is vibrant blue.

A soft breeze wafts over me and hums through the junipers, blowing cottonwood tufts around the campsite.  The creek behind me tumbles over rocks, blurbling and chortling, perfecting my afternoon with its song. 

We were here last year about the same time.  At that time the creek barely held any water, surfacing for a hundred feet before sinking back into the sands.  It was the first time in over 30 years of traveling here that I had seen the creek dry.  A worrisome dry that confirmed my worst fears when a huge wildfire broke out in June.  The Horseshoe 2 fire burned most of the mountain range over a month plus.  This canyon was protected for several reasons: several residences, the Southwestern Research Station, incredible birding, and some great firefighters.  This year you could see the results of the fire... black toothpick trees sticking up out of the snow on the mountain ridges, areas with no debris under the trees with black bases, entire mountain faces that were brown with no green at all.  But you could also see other life.  Some of those mountain faces had canyons that still held the green of junipers and oaks, new growth poking up through the sooty ground, and the mountains themselves, stoic and rejuvenating.  I felt a sadness at seeing the burned areas, especially knowing that the fire was human caused, but I also feel a good vibe as I see the life springing anew.

This small campground is peaceful.  Gangs of Mexican Jays fly through regularly - looking for food and talking constantly.  They come in waves - like the wind - you can hear them swooping through the trees.

A pair of White-Breasted Nuthatches also checks us out - very unintimidated as they jerk up and down the trees right in front of me.  They are probably feeding babies as they grab crumbs and dog kibbles and fly away to the same area across the campground.  Just as quickly they are back - hopping into the dog bowl.

I love this place.  I first discovered it back in 1980 when visited with my grandmother during our glorious roadtrip summer.  I skinny-dipped in a hole in the creek at that time.  The creek was fuller then and fewer people.  Doesn't matter though.  I'm such a cold water wimp that I wouldn't dip again.  Wading is enough. The peace of the canyon is the same though.  It renews the soul.  It reminds me of what is truly important about life.

And so as the breeze increases and cools in the late afternoon, the birds are returning in hopes of new crumbs.  Potential campers cruise through the campground and move on.  I'm about to start a rich Chicken Tortilla Soup for our dinner.  Time to put the journal down, wander the creek edge, and soak up the peace.

I am the epitome of "Happy Camper", enjoying my glass of Dos Cabezas' dry blush wine, and just being...