Desert Bungalow

Cinderblocks, bold colors of saffron and spice juxtaposed against whitewashed walls. The wind blows fast and loud through stands of blackened, deadened trees and over the sagebrush and desert peach. The peaches are ripe, but they are not edible. Down the dirt two-track and up the steep incline to where it rests, tucked against the mountainside, bordered by the creek with its willows and other leafy greens. It's all so hardy where the water is. The house is large and open, the windows set against the outer wall to give each its own nook for reading. Perhaps I should give each one a try. The light moves with the day, and solar power means that nothing is wasted. Everything unplugs, use it when the sun is up, use sparingly when it's down. Like in Botswana, where all the outlets have a switch to turn them off. So much wiser to use less.

I brought little with me to the Desert Bungalow - my latest house-sitting job, this time for my friends Mark and Lynn. Just a book (that I'll probably finish while I'm here because it's short); my sketchbook, pencils, and watercolors; my quilt; and some patches that I can sew onto my Timbuk2 bag - man that thing is getting full! My plans are to chill, to give myself time to breathe and think and be. As well as to borrow a bike for a little ride, and go for a little hike up the stoney hills. Perhaps I'll even walk down to the creek and do some playing in it. Point being: for the next couple weeks I've got a nice little escape to relax at and soak up my days off. I really like this house-sitting thing - I think I could get into it....