Three years ago, about this time, my husband and I christened his new pickup by bringing it up to Williams Mountain, parking it somewhere in the middle of the woods, and throwing an air mattress in the back. After a bottle of wine (or two) by the fire we crawled in and fell asleep counting asteroids thanks to the annual Perseid Meteor shower. There is nothing like waking up in the middle of the night to have the universe as your ceiling. Plus, you can’t help but get giddy wishing upon a shitload of falling stars.
A few nights ago we got to do this again, and it was amazing (well except for the massive bug that buzzed us a few times and my 3 a.m. irrational fear of getting devoured by a bear or mountain lion —- Joe’s snoring could possibly pass as a mating call).
Sorry I didn’t think to grab my camera and take pics at night
As much as we travel I know you’d think we’d honeymoon somewhere exotic like Fiji or the Maldives, but because of lack of time off (for Joe) and money (it happens) we opted for a few nights up north, which is really the only right way for us to commemorate our 10 years of putting up with one another, and first month of marriage. This is who we are —- but no worries we have plenty of other travel adventures ahead of us, including those exotic islands we have not yet snored on.
We began our little vacation Wednesday night inhaling Moscow Mules in the pool while strategising our Olympic synchronised cannon ball routine —- seriously we could bring home gold. Next day after running errands (including Joe signing the papers that sold his house —- whoop whoop! mine is next) we booked a room at St. Michaels, an early 1900s hotel on Whiskey Row in Prescott. We strolled, we ate, we drank, we mingled with folk, and we watched Americans kick ass in the Olympics (we can swim, volley and summersault the hell out of ourselves, can’t we).
In the morning we walked alongside Granite creek. It’s a lovely little walk we didn’t even know existed —- despite the many times we’ve been to Prescott. You can enter it off of Gurley street, two blocks down from St. Michaels hotel.
Then we headed up to Williams for our no-tent camping trip and hike for one night. Our second night there we spent in a Williams hotel (because Mama demanded more tub and real toilet time on her honeymoon).
Today, after putzing around and enjoying more of Williams, we drove up to Flagstaff and for the first time ever rode the ski lift to the top of Snowbowl. My pictures cannot do the experience justice.
While I wrote most of this my man napped in the shade of a tree; butterflies dared each other to touch him (I’d post the pic I took, but only the butterflies and I should witness his extraverted belly busting out for a photo bomb). All I heard was the wind through the forest and birds and insects busying themselves with their morning chores. Later on I lied under the same tree and watched clouds embrace each other to bless us with a small rain shower. The best parts of our honeymoon were all gifts from nature, and it just doesn’t get any better than that.
We’re back in Phoenix now, but in three days I leave again for the other desert I live in. I will think of all of this when I sip my coffee in my heavily air conditioned Al Ain apartment, and I will once again thank the powers that be for the many miracles in my life. Blessed Be, Allah Akbar, and Amen!