Not too far from the desert botanical gardens is papagos park.  This is one that fills up as soon as it opens in the morning. After driving past the entrance at least four times because I couldn’t understand Google maps, we finally found it and a coveted parking spot to boot.  I was mildly disappointed in this park due to the hype there was about it.  I think if I was riding a bike or running this would have been a great “trail” run/ride.  I say that loosely due to the fact that you can see one end of the park to the other, except for the large rocks on one end of the park.  However, once  on the other side of the park and into the crevices of the rock formation we came upon the hummingbirds.  We were still and quiet and soon the area was alive with the hummingbirds flitting from bush to bush and chasing each other off.  Apparently they are very territorial.  As soon as someone would come along blaring music as they walked or loudly talking, the humming birds disappeared and no one would ever have know they were there. I would stand next to a bush and listening for the humming of wings and the tiny little squawks.  Trying quickly to focus on them before they darted and streaked to another bush or another bird. It was amazing to watch and I had to tear myself away to finish the walk around the park.

We pulled into the parking area wondering if we were in the correct spot.  Could this be it?  We hoped.  Getting out to read the sign, we noticed what looked like quite a few different trail heads.  Hoping that we read the map correctly and being that it was already 8 am, we headed out.  Sedona is higher up in the mountains and so was potentially cooler than in Phoenix, we had not acclimated to the temperature just quite yet. I was already sweating.  The trail led us into a gully or a wash providing just a bit of shade.  The sun rose higher bring hotter temperatures with it as we took step after step.  Looking up at the towering rock formations I wasn’t sure which one we would be circling, nor where the over hangs were on the trail. As I searched for a glimpse of the trail ahead, I noticed a hawk catching thermals, gliding along on the hunt for food in the gully below.  It would suddenly rise 100 ft or more and then descend quickly only to catch the next thermal, graceful and effortless.  Over a small lip and around a bend, I noticed a saddle where I assumed we were headed.  The rocks were worn smooth by rains or wind or both and so we followed the painted dots that marked the path. They took us over the saddle and to the north side of the large rock formation.  Searching for the next white dot, the only marker of a trail we came upon mountain bikers.  I realized that the white dots were the actual path for the mountain bikes.  They put their tires on the dots and not deviate  going  down the hill.  It was precarious. A wrong turn, a slip could send them over and down skipping and sliding.  Someone had gone through and ridden the route painting as they biked down for the next person to follow.  Around the bend juniper trees, over head cliffs and various bushes provided shade that we gratefully took advantage of. The trail meandered along, winding up and down, back and forth until the next saddle.  Up and over to the rocky cliffs jutting out over canyons and dry creek beds.  Slowly it descended, barely a trail marked by the white dots we had so far been following.  Over an edge that we couldn’t see and into a coulee that led us to Cow Pie trail.  We followed this trail into a smooth rock river bed and I couldn’t help but think of not wanting to be here during a flash flood.  It would be something to witness as long as you were above it and not in it.  The cow Pie Trail led us to the Munds Wagon Trail so named after a man who took his wagon up to mine for gold. I couldn’t imagine driving anything up the trail let alone a wagon.  I just don’t know how it would have been able to go over some of the rocks or around the bends.  It seemed too steep and narrow.  As we climbed back into our rig, all I could think of was pizza and beer.  

 The hot, heavy air clung to my body as I stepped out of the red Jeep we had rented for the week.  I took a deep breath in before donning my mask.  No entry without a mask.  All inside exhibits were closed and though outside it was required.  The water fountains and water bottle filing stations were off and yet the masks must stay on. We showed our prepaid tickets to the cashier and made our way through the gate. The blinding late afternoon sun baked the dusty ground into clay.  Upon opening the brochure we found it contained mostly ads with one page dedicated to this botanical garden and the paths around it. Looking around I was startled to realize how alive this desert botanical garden truly was.  Not just the plants but the birds, lizards and rodents as well.  As we wandered down this path, I was mesmerized by the sights.  The sunlight made the plants glow, showcasing how vibrant these cactus blooms and spines were.  Everywhere I turned, the colors popped as the light became softer and lower in the sky.  It gave a depth to the colors that just wasn’t  there during the day.  It sang of beauty, quiet and hidden, only bursting forth in the spring of the year.  I was here, seeing those rare blooms, the spines of color, the rabbits and roadrunners scurrying. My husband and my camera were my companions as we explored the winding paths. The voices of others ahead and behind along the path carried softly, more of a muted current under the symphony from the birds.  The sun sank even more and still the plants glowed.  The long shadows did nothing to diminish the heat both rising from the earth and hanging in the air. Yet the heat contributed to the magic of the desert. Stepping onto a gravelly path, a caretaker came behind hanging the closed sign.  The place was started to shut down, we had time to walk the path but not to dawdle.  We rounded one bend after another, wanting to soak in everything but the fairy lights in the mesquite trees near the entrance was like a lighthouse signaling that our time was coming to an end. As the sun had slipped behind the earth, we realized that mornings and evenings were the magic hours of the desert.