The Lance and I both happily, safely, and peacefully, boondocked at Whitewater Draw Arizona. The weather was beautiful, with blue skies, calm winds, and 60°.
As Bob Seger once sang, "Here I go again, turn the page." So this morning, if you turned the page, you would find a picture of me at Whitewater Draw taking snapshots of Sandhill cranes.
Unlike Bob Seger, I can't carry a tune in a bucket. But I do turn many pages as the days and miles of my life flash by in a blur. As soon as I settle down somewhere for a couple of days or weeks, I hear the road to somewhere calling, and I seem powerless to ignore it.
That's not the way normal people are. Normal folks have roots. Now, they are okay with straining those roots with a two-week vacation somewhere, but something calls them, and they have to get back to those roots they call home. But I don't think I have any actual roots, so nothing calls me home, and I call nothing home except my camper.
Now, I'm not talking about my family; I miss my family all the time. I'm talking about a place called home, and I think this is the first time I've noticed I never had that place.
It could be growing up as an Air Force brat with the constant travel made me never live somewhere long enough to put down any roots. And then, when I turned 18, it was the same thing, four years in the Air Force and lots of moving.
So, I am trying to remember ever having a place I called home. I've lived in places I liked a lot, such as Colorado. And even Miami, Florida, was a tropical paradise for me before it was overrun with illegals, drugs, and crime. And as much as I love Colorado, you can see how fast I got out of there because of the snow and the cold.
So, I don't appear to have any real roots anywhere; maybe that's why I'm happy "anywhere." I've moved so much in my life that I've learned to enjoy wherever I'm at, and that's why wherever the Lance and I are It becomes a place I call home.
Giant Arizona Chickadee. these Giant Chickadees are easy to spot compared to the regular chickadees because they have colors that camouflage them when they're in the dirt or the snow. of course the fact that these Chickadees are four feet tall and weigh 75 pounds is also a clue.
What we have here is a genuine professional photographer, and Amateurs like myself find them relatively easy to spot when they're in their environment.
My first clue is he's loaded down like a pack mule. Professional photographers make a lot of money, and there one of the few people that can afford to buy enough expensive equipment to load themselves up like a pack mule.
The next clue is I can see somewhere around $35,000 worth of photography equipment that's out in the open. I can only imagine how many more cameras and lenses that giant backpack will hold.
And my last clue was, as I walked up he was enough of a professional to start feverishly hiding all of his equipment for fear my mere presence would give his equipment cooties.
Tweedle Nosed Bee Hunter. These birds are so rare they don't even exist and never have... I don't know why I bothered to take his picture.
Expected Sandhill cranes? Not to worry, I'll be posting far too many Crane pictures before you know it.