It was a weekend of unseasonably mild weather before the summer heats sets in.
An old friend blew into town, and we had a brilliant day hiking up the Peralta Trail in the Superstition Mountains. Here's the view northwards to Weaver's Needle:
My favorite desert flowers -- ocotillo, yucca, prickly pear, cholla, brittlebush - were out in force, shimmering in the harsh sun in vibrant hues of orange and yellow and magenta. It amazes me that such an unforgiving landscape can produce such delicate and ephemeral blooms.
I had yarn and needles tucked into my backpack. I always do. This was to be a Vermont shawl, which I need to test knit in a commercially available yarn before I can release the pattern. I was trying out a sportweight alpaca in heathered greens. I worked on it throughout the evening, too, but I decided I didn't like it in this heavier weight, so I unraveled it after all that.
No matter. That was a minor point to the day. I was just happy to be out there, drinking in this beauty.