Miles of Roses

My visitors and I were driving to hike the White Tank Mountains (in Mirage, AZ) to see the petroglyphs. We saw, in the January-bare fields, plants, about three feet tall. Acres of them. They were blooming.

“Roses,” Eva said. I couldn’t believe it. Fields of roses? Yes. We got out of the car to take photos. As far as the eye could see, fields of roses, mostly red. Some white and a few pink.


They must have been growing for nurseries or florists. There was not a scrap of fragrance in the air. Either way, it was an incredible sight.

A good surprise for my visitors who are flying back to Switzerland tomorrow. And one for me, who never expected to see roses blooming by the acre in the desert.


There is a reason

Roses do well here in Arizona. But not for long. They seem tragic, somehow, working so hard to put out leaves and blooms and then the sun scorches them to nothing. We have our share of people in the desert who want their roses. Want to say they grow roses in the scrub-brush land of purples, grays and browns.

The same people who say, “There is a reason for everything,” do not want to accept the reason that some plants don’t grow in the desert on their own.

They want to prove they can outsmart the weather, the climate, the plan that doesn’t suit them.

But in the end, the climate is part of our lives, part of the big circle of life that brings us birth and brings us death. And there is beauty in both, whether we want to see it or not. Because the desert climate believes in us, even if we do not believe in it.

-Quinn McDonald is a writer and journaler who is a life coach because she believes in putting down roots where you thrive.