Arboretum

 

 

It has been a day filled with light, the kind of light that can unexpectedly greet you when you turn a corner walking through a forest, suddenly slanting through the trees, or maybe the kind that breaks from a wall of clouds shortly before sunset to pour out on a still lake – or, maybe, the very kind of light that seems to turn new leaves into a source of light in themselves, just like they do in this photo. 

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When our hosts told us they would take us to the Boyce-Thompson Arboretum I had no clear idea what to expect. All I needed, however, was to hear 'arbor', the Latin popping into my head from long-ago highschool years: arbor, arboris – the tree. This was going to be a wonderful day, as any day spent among trees is for me.

With all my imagination I could not have dreamed up a place quite like this tucked in the sere desert landscape, however. Founded by William Boyce-Thompson in 1924 it is the oldest botanical garden in Arizona and ever since has been used as a desert plant research facility. Over 2600 plant species from all over the world are growing on its nearly 400 acres, and it has been declared an Important Bird Area by the Audubon Society as well. 

My favourites: Golden Globes

We headed out into the gardens along well maintained paths lined by an amazing array of cacti with such descriptive names as Fishhook, Toothpick, Monstrose Totem, Golden and Red Globe, Prickly Pear, and many, many more, smooth and bumpy, spiked or covered with a woolly blanket of white, harmless-looking fur (I'm sure it's better not to give in to the temptation to test its softness by brushing it), rotund or tall and gangly, twisted or straight, juicy or wrinkled and even skeletal. What an array of texture and colour!

A bouquet of saw blades?

Saguaro with nest

Monstrose Totem cacti with 'president's face'

As if this weren't enough there were the blossoms, hot pink, lemon yellow, crimson stars unfolding among the spikes of the cacti, a creamy white mass of flowers bursting from the heart of a yucca plant, delicate golden or red stalks rising from other succulents. 

The path turned uphill for a short while and soon afforded a beautiful view of a narrow canyon. A pretty crested bird was pecking seeds from the path, not overly disturbed by our arrival: a female cardinal, soon joined by its brilliant red partner. It was the first time I ever saw a cardinal, and that alone would have made my day. 

 

 

We followed the gently declining path right to the bottom of the canyon. The small creek trickling through the greening valley had been a torrent only a short while ago: traces of its force were still visible along the banks and in freshly repaired portions of the trail system. Now, the peaceful valley transported me back to spring days in my childhood, spent exploring creek banks and new growth.

A sudden movement on a rock outcropping far above us caught my eye: a stocky animal with sizeable horns clearly visible against the bright sky. This must have been a desert bighorn sheep, a subspecies of the Rocky Mountain bighorn sheep that is well adapted to this extremely dry part of the North American continent. Our friends, who come to the arboretum regularly, had never seen one here before – a rare treat for all of us. 

The last part of our hike along Queen Creek led us through palm and eucalyptus groves to a shady picnic area, a perfect place to end this wonderful excursion. Hummingbirds darted among the flowers, and two more cardinal couples squabbled not far from our bench. 

The desert will be waiting for us again tomorrow, and I look forward to discovering more of its wonders. It has been warm through much of February and March, and while this is great news for the flora it also means that rattlesnakes are out and about already. Several sightings have been reported in the area, and we have been warned to be careful.