February 27, 2026

The soft crunch of gravel under my tennis shoes joins Phinn’s light painting on our morning walk. Hummingbirds swoop near our heads and mourning doves, my mothers favorite, coo softly in the background wrapping me in a miasma of home…

The African daisies, vibrant yellow and orange, herald the onset of spring, and with it, Tucson Rodeo Days.

This year, our friends Sarabeth and Dean, are spending their first rodeo days in Tucson, and we joined them for the opening day of the rodeo.

Our seats were front and center, giving us glorious views of the opening event – mutton-busting. This is a charming tradition, where kids from 4 to 7 years old ride sheep, and whoever stays on longest wins. 

Who knew sheep were so difficult to ride! They bucked and fell down, making it almost impossible for anybody to make it more than 20 feet beyond the gate. The event was won by a four year-old that Erich mistook for a small chimp, as he hung on with a death grip for 18 long seconds!

We stayed for bronco riding and cattle roping, but we then driven out by the blistering sun. 

Temperatures here have been unseasonably warm, and it is scheduled to reach 90° by the end of the week.

This has left Phinn and Phoebe relaxing in the air conditioning, while Erich and I try and regain our lost mountain biking skills so we can join our very accomplished friends.

After asking Donna (our “trusted” AI of choice) about a good spot for beginner mountain bike rides in the area, we ended up at Sweetwater Preserve. 

Here, I learned several things in addition to mountain biking. The first is that “Sweetwater” is neither sweet, nor does it have water. Instead, it’s a very rocky ride on a narrow trail hemmed in by cactus and  navigating steep hillsides. This would have challenged us even in our past peak shape, but for our first ride in 20 years, it seemed over the top. 

The next thing I learned was that I’m as stubborn as a mule. Donna said this was easy, so I’m going to complete it come hell or high (sweet) water! Erich had the good sense to turn back, but I pressed on, alone and without water. 

This latter condition was not intentional, and became my third lesson: a water bottle in a cage does not fare well against a rocky trail. At a fork in the road, I stopped to have a drink and discovered my bottle had been jostled loose during my maniacal ride. At this point I should have turned back, but no, I was going to finish the darn ride! 

Fourth lesson-as I contemplated Erich finding my dried out husk of a corpse beside the trail, I reflected that his sense of caution may have kept me alive through our many adventures…

I finished the loop, found my water bottle in a staghorn cholla on the way out, (miraculously intact and thorn-free) and took a long, heavenly drink contemplating my, uh, tenacity. Perhaps this served me well in my career, but going forward I will strive to listen more to my other half, heretofore known as “the voice of reason.”