Circles, Squiggles, and a Line in the Sand I need to back up a bit and tell you about Highway 62. Highway 62 takes you from the Parker Dam in Arizona to Twentynine Palms California. Actually you can take 62 all the way down to the 10. You pass through Wonder Valley, Twentynine Palms, Joshua Tree, Yucca Valley, Morongo Valley, you skirt Desert Hot Springs, and then you meet up with the 10, AKA the Santa Monica Freeway. To take the 10 all the way to the Santa Monica Pier, you make a right at the windmills. I really love those windmills. Since my father moved to Hollywood in the late 70s, I have been watching those windmills going around...so I guess that's how long California has been engaging in green energy collection and consumption. I suppose we will go off the grid one day—but probably not on purpose. Yes, we are looking for jobs. I used to have one of those, didn't I. In fact I must say it is taking some creative thinking to figure out what to say to prospective employers about the way in which my previous engagement--ended itself. But that's old news. Let's go back to Highway 62. It's a hundred miles from the Parker Dam to Twentynine Palms. And at this time of year it is like God's Anvil as seen in the film Lawrence of Arabia. It's a pan made just for frying pilgrims who lose their way. So before you start down that highway you need to make sure you have some water or one of those sports drinks with ice in it, some salty snacks, and maybe some gum in case you get sleepy. And, you have to make sure to empty your bladder because there...is....nothing...out...there. For one hundred miles. Nothing except some ruins of old gas stations and cafés, their signs all twisted and strange...at about mile fifty you pass a fence that is covered with old sneakers. People passing through stop and leave their Chuck Taylors and P.F. Flyers and so forth....tied by the shoelaces to this fence. They want to let you know that they have passed through here. There are many ways in which human travelers mark the territory they pass through. All along the railroad tracks that run parallel to 62, people have inscribed their names and initials and other messages using the black and white stones. Some names are spelled in white stones with each letter outlined in black stones. Others are more ambitious: huge initials formed by railroad ties line the embankment. Last time through I noticed that those had been gathered up and placed back in their piles along the tracks. Mostly, people seem to prefer writing with the rocks. (For sure the strangest message I have seen reads as follows: "U R A DOUCHE." I mean, how do they know who is reading that stuff??) By now you might be wondering "what about the circles and squiggles?" Well...the other day we got a visit from Tess who lives down the road. She stopped by to warn us about some of the other critters (besides us) who inhabit this region. She told us that we need to be on the lookout for "circles" and "squiggles" in the sand . What was strange is that I had just seen a squiggle in the sand. The phrase "tube of venom" from some nature essay I read about a hundred years ago (Barry Lopez? William Least Heat Moon?) just kind of popped into my head when I saw this squiggle in the sand...so I steered the dog in another direction and forgot all about it—until Tess came by. The rattlesnakes, she informed us, like to bury themselves in the sand to cool off and to do that they circle round and round until they are "dug in." They also squiggle themselves under the sand and lie there until sunset, "Oh, they'll warn you, they won't just strike. But you gotta be aware," said Tess. "Don't be afraid, just be aware." Hmmmm. What is fear but a heightened form of awareness? Tess also identified the haphazard web in the crook of our saguaro cactus. She confirmed that this funnel-shaped mess was indeed the home of a large black widow spider. There also appeared to be a tiny egg lodged in that same crook. Tess said that sometimes hummingbirds lay their eggs and then abandon the nest. My guess? The spider came by and let the hummingbird know who was in charge around there... We have our hummingbird feeders out, and Tess said that we wouldn't get any action there until the fall. But the other day, we heard that familiar buzz-bombing sound and the chirping of the hummers. And sure enough, a little gray bird hovered and lit on the edge of the red plastic cup. That little bird must have been tipsy when it was done...it drank half the sugar water we'd made and then came back for more.