My wife and I traveled to Virginia to see my son and Daughter in law over the Memorial Day weekend. My wife wanted to walk the Slave Trail in Richmond. So of course we journeyed from Alexandria to Richmond to walk the trail. While in the downtown area I saw the mural and thought i might be interesting on how it would look under different scenarios. I liked the first one, as it seemed both were in sync with their strides. The second one with the light and shadow. I liked the idea of the man walking into the shadow.

I know, it isn't enough, will never be enough, the experts tell us, and if there existed a fifth category of drought beyond our status of "exceptional" southwestern NM would be in it (and I am not doubting the science)...but for now, the forest is getting rain, and nothing could make me, and everyone I know, happier. So I'm setting the big picture aside to enjoy the forest as I learned to know and love it: Cool, damp, headily fragrant, the trails softened by the moisture rather than crackling with desiccation. I could actually walk without making a sound. I haven't taken photos in nearly six weeks, partly because of a shoulder injury which still renders my right arm unsteady, but mostly because I don't want to take photos of a bone-dry landscape.

This lovely trail begins at a small campground and follows a modest canyon for about a mile and a half, gradually becoming steeper until it becomes ridiculously steep and stops at a T formed by a wildlife path. If one makes a sharp left at the T and negotiates an even steeper section of trail, the reward is reaching what I call the Rim, which overlooks the canyon and offers views of some great cliffs and free-standing rock pillars. It was up here that last year I affixed a trail camera to a small oak tree aimed at the rock ledge I called the Perch. The ledge is pocked by deep holes that fill with water when it rains; I started carrying water up there to fill a few of the holes when they went dry. This is also a good weight-bearing exercise for someone with osteoporosis (that would be me).

On yesterday's trip I found the Perch awash with water. In fact, every hole and crevice in every rock held water. There was water in places I never knew could hold water. I only carried a gallon with me instead of the usual nearly three gallons, figuring my water station (a portable rubber tub) wouldn't need much--it was actually overflowing--so I added the gallon to the one hole in the Perch which could accept a little more, and then THAT overflowed!

I might include a photo or two with iffy focus, so I hope you'll forgive me for that. If not, I don't want to hear about it. Also, I hope that even those of you with ample water will appreciate how significant this rainfall has been. It really does mean the difference between life and death for the forest.