It happens sometimes when I’m walking the hills and the only sound I hear is a humming. A few times it comes from the earth herself. At others it’s from the sky. It’s the language of living things from granite to clouds and everything in between.

 I just came from the Sonora Desert where I watched shadows turn with the passing sun–and clouds that were bright pink and glistening…where the land is full of cactus, rocks, things with sharp edges, things with thorns.

I would like to be walking in the hills more.