heading southwest

As I sit at my kitchen table in Maine, looking out my window I see that summer has arrived. It has been a rainy spring, torrential rains in fact. Now, summer has come in on great green wings. Everything is lush, verdant and full of promise, one of the magical times in New England. Promises of daylilies and fireflies, days spent at the oceans edge, wet sand in your toes. How different from where I am headed.
The Southwest. In the southwest it has been warm and dry, hot already, on many days with more hot, dry days to come. Here in New England, unless you are on the ocean or on top of a mountain you can never see very far away, there are too many trees and hills, curves and gardens (and shopping malls). In New Mexico, you can see for miles on a clear day until the curve of the earth meets the horizon. The earth is brown and red, sometimes lavender. There is no ocean, but the ocean was there once, sometimes you can find a seashell in the middle of the desert and you remember this was once the ocean floor. There are mountains in both places, rivers, trees but there is no mistaking one for the other. I watch the morning doves outside my window and breathe the green grassy air. I know when I get to New Mexico, the air will be different, redolent of pinon and other spice. Waking up, I can tell where I am with a deep breath...
After New Mexico, I will head to Colorado. In Colorado, where I once lived, the air has a crisp, mineral smell. I think of mountains and more mountains, pale blue sky, and hiking narrow mountain trails.
Promise. Summer brings promise here in New England, and my heart beats just a little faster with all there is to come.