 On the way back home and the sun is beginning to set, painting the skies and the clouds in a soft array of colors. There is a man sitting in the seat in front of me that at first I thought he was scratching his head at a concerning level. After a while, I realized he was pulling this bit of hair at the top of his head and twirling it, over and over and over and then pressing it into place. Sometimes the quirky behaviors of people are quite fascinating. I keep thinking as I watch him that as tightly as he is twisting that piece of hair, it must hurt.I so enjoyed the time I got to spend with Mikki, seeing all the kids and the fun and celebrations, but seeing the mountains of home reaching up below me bathed in such joyous colors feels like a welcome home celebration. |
 And here is a new and unique experience! To watch the sun set from 30,000 feet! The clouds embracing it as it makes its exit. A farewell embrace before welcoming the coming night. |
 And the sun, flamboyant creature that it is, must first take a glowing bow before it gives up the heavens it ruled for the day.And still he continues to twist that strand of hair. I’m guessing it would be considered rude if I took a picture of it. |
 Softly sinking ever lower. Golden glows infusing everything they touch, setting the pre-night skies afire with their touch. |
 Okay, I admit, I just couldn’t get enough of this fiery vista! It was just too beautiful not to capture as much of it as I could. And still the man in front of me keeps twirling those little strands of hair! Has he even noticed the beauty outside the window? |
 As it makes its final dip, he explodes in a fiery tornado blasting the sky with a molten lava display. |
 And the sun has finally given up the fight for the rule of the day, his bed is made and the clouds wrap him in their soft blanket and kiss him good night. |
 In the dying light of the day, the Mother mountain reaches up past the lake of clouds, bathed in pastel lights, the monument that testifies that you know means you are home. |
 And as we drop lower, the lights of the city. Not evenly laid out as they are in Phoenix. But, spatterings and drops strewn across the landscape like a farmer casting seeds. The lights like a Christmas tree laid out to cover the entirety of the landscape. Back home among my trees! |
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Upon entering the area, one first casts eyes on the barren trees reaching up from the marshy pools under them. A wooded dancer in a private ritual to entice the sun to join her in her silent revelry.
Rounding a bend the sun had broken through the clouds, a small family of ducks tracing the edges of the sparkling reflection.
Diamond spark of the sun breaks through the winter bare branches straining to see if their reflections have begun to show even the smallest hint of spring on their edges. 
Stripped of color, the barren branches ignited by the sunlight draw thoughts of an alien terrain and ghostly wanderings.
The first sighting, a heron gazing about its home and bathing in the warmth of the sun.
