Renewed By The Desert
The sun beat down on the dusty hood of my steal horse I ride, kicking up a shimmering haze on the endless ribbon of asphalt. Beside me, my dog, Rusty, a smooth Jack Russlle mutt with ears perked at every sun-shine shadow. Together, we watched the alien landscape unfold. Our destination was off-road into the Chihuahuan Desert. Our arrival was final, but only after rugged terrain. I opened the door eagerly as if invited by the Creator himself, only to be met with silence as company. However, the silence outside was a symphony to the soul—the whisper of wind across rocky ground and mountains, the distant cry of a lone hawk. Beautiful, yes, but in a stark, unforgiving way. The land stretched out in a tapestry of ochre and terracotta, dotted with gnarled cacti like silent sentinels. Mountains, the color of sunbaked clay, rose on the horizon, their peaks lost in the hazy distance. It was a landscape stripped bare, its beauty raw and exposed. Yet, amidst the barrenness, a strange sense of ho