Spring has sprung in the Arizona desert. The cactus flowers provide brilliant contrast to their otherwise intimidating appearance. The lizards have woken up from their dormant state. Unfortunately, so have the snakes, though I have yet to see a venomous one. I know they are out there and tread carefully when I take my morning walks out in the wash.

Dobby, the cat, stalks innocent lizards in the yard with his bird breath; he occasionally shows off his prowess by bringing in avian remains and mouse carcasses. I am aghast, but I resign myself to accepting this feline behavior. I have, after all, been known to eat many birds in my life too.

Mice have taken up residence in the van with brazen audacity. But they, too, hit their downfall, guillotined by a peanut butter trap. All this written is in the Animal Kingdom Manifesto.

My sanctuary has gotten some love from the gardener, who spruced up the shrubs, raked up debris and got rid of a couple of demonic jumping cholla cacti. My son Forrest arrived today to rip my nasty white living room carpet up and replace it with tile. I am so looking forward to a couple of weeks of mother-son bonding. We haven’t had this much time together in many years. His excellent skills will once again make their mark on a place I call home.

My southwestern home will be in great shape when I pack up and head north again. I am looking forward to being back in green Oregon, with its quiet lush forests and endless beaches. But what I am most looking forward to is the end of this solitude. It’s been a difficult winter for me here in this lonely desert. The shining sun soothes my soul only to a point. My people are in Oregon: my family, and friends who have loved me for decades and who accept me with all my flaws and shortcomings. I won’t have to eat dinner alone every night, and force myself to join awkward social gatherings in an attempt to make new friends. I won’t have to hesitate to hug them, wondering if it’s appropriate. I will even host my own 70th birthday party, and know that people will show up. That’s a kind of security that no amount of money can buy, and it is the most precious kind of wealth to me.