Last April I was driving home and was completely awed by the view of a sliver of the silver moon hanging low in the night sky with Venus at her side in between the gaps of several tall saguaros on the road near my house. I huddled on the side of the road with my camera on its tripod, taking pictures for seconds at a time as cars drove by, their headlights giving the perfect extra glow to the scene. I was giddy with delight at the landscape before me!
Then in July, our monsoon season, the same area was graced with the presence of a full rainbow, so again I took the opportunity to capture the beauty of this special area of desert, practically in my own backyard!
I decided to go explore this area again recently, and was devastated to find that this beautiful patch of natural desert vegetation had been plowed, graded, and cleared with exception of the protected saguaros. Those towering giants now overlook a plain of freshly tractored dirt, still soft from the dragging. They used to be surrounded by other plants particular to our Sonoran desert, but now they seem isolated with nothing in front of or behind them. I imagine that their arms turn down, and placed on their "hips," they gossip about the travesty. Tire tracks have replaced my shoe prints and the tracks of desert creatures who once called it home.
I cried for this magical place I've developed a sort of friendship with and immediately called my mama, a lover of the desert, knowing that she would understand. I expected her to be oober-sympathetic with me, and while she was sorry for me, she also said that my property was once covered in desert landscape, too. This comment surprised me, but she is a Senior Zoning Inspector for the Town of Oro Valley and she deals with this sort of complaint over and over again from Oro Valley citizens who call her, much like I did, frustrated over the development of a new area, and the loss of something natural and beautiful. My mama was right. I, too, am guilty of enjoying my home situated in a subdivision, the result of the very act that distraught me: de-desertation.
Our population is growing, and developers need to make room for people moving in - I get it, and it has never bothered me before. But now the awe-inspiring scenes I witnessed right there will never be seen the way I saw it again, except for digitally (thankfully). Those plants, shrubs, smaller cacti, and trees will never grow quite the same there, and now an apartment complex will sit on that corner and people will move in and perhaps never know what used to reside on that plot of land, land I didn't figure anyone even owned, naively.
I feel gypped. There wasn't even a warning! But what would I have done? The Lorax comes to mind. Where is he when you need him? However, people like my mama salvage our desert vegetation and ensure that our native plants are represented in new developments. I'm thankful for that. Thank you, Mama!
It's crazy to think about all of the paved roads that divide the landscape, and what now CAN'T grow or live there because WE have so many places to go to and be at. I do appreciate our roads, parking lots, homes, architecture, schools, museums, and businesses, I do. But it is interesting to think about what once was there and can be no more. And a little sad.
Thankful for the sights I saw there,
Dawn
