These red rocks, though their vibrancy in the present never lives up to my memories, guarded the long car journeys of my childhood. If we were going to visit family, or going to a bigger city to do shopping, or even going to a neighboring town for a soccer game, more often than not our route took us through this canyon of rocks jutting up from the desert floor. And, I was always captivated by them.
More than just the rocks, though, I was captivated by the stories that went with them. There was the time we found a baby Mojave Green braving the asphalt and we stopped to make sure he crossed safely. There was the time the clouds pressed low around us and then opened up and it was like we had been tossed in the ocean. There was the time I swear I saw UFO lights bouncing among the rocks and the silhouette of an alien standing on top. There was the time I got to drive our brand new car home through the canyon, and was told to see what she could do.
Even now, the Queen, Little Prince and I pass through here regularly on our own adventures, and we stop from time to time to stretch our legs or soothe away other complaints as best we can. I find that my eyes stray to the edge of the road to check for snakes and other critters, and they stray to the heavens to check for clouds, and they stray to the top of the red cliffs to see who might be up there watching. And, of course, they admire the beauty of what is actually there and what will remain long after we are gone.