DO MIGRANTS DREAM OF BLUE BARRELS? R aquel G uti é rre z
new perspectives when I am stuck on a writing project—to step out into any number of trails and parks and take it all in, whether it’s the way the light moves across the shallow valleys of Gates Pass before sunset or the way the temperature surprisingly drops ten degrees when your trail takes you into the shadowy parts sitting below Pima Canyon. The infinity of surprise that lives here is hard to deny. But as 115–120 degrees Fahrenheit becomes the new normal for Southern Arizona, indicat-
I live in Tucson. People tell me they love the images they see on my various social media feeds of the mysterious, moonscape desert that surrounds. Many of the friends, acquaintances, and strangers who follow me on social media live along both coasts, so of course it gives me great pleasure to be able to ignite their awe for the uncontainable beauty of the Sonoran desert, even if from afar. For me, being in this desert on any given morning or early evening means giving over to the expansive possibilities of the landscape. It has offered
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