March 19th, 2012 (Monday)
We wake up to a decent six inches of snow. (I'm in the US, that's why its not metric.) The clouds are huddled around the red rock buttes with fog struggling to lift off. Small flakes are still spinning down. I can't believe it. We drive to the trail head. Closed. We get snow in Canada and don't close the trails. This is not good news. Plans shift.
We head to Sedona to walk around at the Mexican Village Tlacquepacque. This is a maze with corridors, stairs to a second story, hidden railings and fountains. A perfect place for the boys to stage an all-out snow ball fight. I fall victim. Snow in hair, on hoodie, ski jacket and in purse along with my camera. Great. I find the loyal husband and tell him he is in charge of the errant children. I'll take a responsible child and go into the shops that have breakable things. I find toy store and buy word game for the trip home. I make it through intact. Oldest child is with the wiggling child. Things don't fair so well. Wiggling child topples whole Hot Wheel display in toy store. Oldest is mortified. Unbelievable. He leaves embarrassed. We find husband. He didn't know there was a toy store. He heads up there with the youngest. This precious child also reaches up at the now fixed Hot Wheel display and sends it cascading. Someone should have warned them we were coming.
I show weakness at tourist trap candy store and buy cactus jellies for the boys. Not a success. "Blecch," they say. So much for expanding their cultural horizons. We corral kids back into the car (yes, there is crying over the candy) and I pass out cheddar popcorn to keep them quiet. We land in downtown Sedona where I have thirty minutes to canvas the streets. The cloud cover is drifting off and sun lands on the orange-red rocks. We leave. No time for tourist traps.
Oldest child and I head out on roads with mountain bikes. We check the main trail. It is still closed. Smart child finds a different trail on opposite side of street with no sign on it. No sign must mean it is okay. We go for it. He bikes. I ride too but mostly I push the bike up the dips. I am chicken of the snow and slippery red sludge. I walk the bike down the dips. I ride the straight parts and small downhills. We have round red clay dots flicked up on our jackets, bikes, pants and even my glasses. The view is otherworldly. He bikes. I stop for photos. The ride is a short 60 minutes but it is glorious. Son is thrilled.
We head home and I grab other child. It is late afternoon and the land begins to glow. We head for a run on the roads and discover a trail circumnavigating a golf course. The backdrop is red rock buttes. We run for thirty minutes with quick stops to take pictures. We finish and I grab loyal husband and two youngest. We walk from out motel to the closed trailhead and take pictures from the parking lot. The red buttes are vibrating and glowing in the fading sun. The children are cold. He heads back. I stay to catch the last rays glancing off the hills. If I don't show up back at work, will anyone notice?
By Mom.
