The Sanctuary

In between trips around AZ and NM, I am grateful to finally settle into my new desert home, which I have named the Sanctuary. I am reveling in my solitude at last, not the least bit lonely, as I become acquainted with the house's uniqueness and little quirks.  

When you first enter the yard, there is a cloister-like doorway that draws me to the house every time I arrive. The front yard is like a convent courtyard, with a dry fountain that I hope to revive at some point to keep the birds happy. 

                                                 

The house is furnished throughout with elegant Native American and Mexican art.  There is pottery that I would love to identify, as I'm certain some are of Pueblo or other southwestern tribal origin.  There are several Talavera tile and porcelain pots from Mexico as well.  

                                                                                            

There are built in cupboards and drawers with "coyote fences", made from saguaro ribs.  Lots of piney beams as well. There's even a couple of small tables that remind me of confessionals.  Hence, the cloister or sanctuary feel of the place.

  

I try to explore the neighborhood, looking for critters in the washes.  Though much like other middle class Tucson developments which lack diversity and have pristine garage-focused houses that the residents never seem to come out of, my neighborhood is still pleasant to walk or bike around. I am still in awe of some of the stately saguaros and other cactuses that adorn my neighbor's gardens.  I am truly grateful for the opportunity to enjoy my winter home.  Arizona, for its complexity of culture,  reminds me of summer with its perpetual blue skies, bird songs, and the smell of creosote and suntan lotion...