On April 9, 2011, the Rockhouse wildfire began west of Marfa, Texas and rushed towards Fort Davis. Hundreds of thousands of acres went from grass to ash in the blink of an eye.

The landscape remained black until the rains came. The rains always come, you know. Even the most aggressive drought must end at some point. Water pours into the parched earth and, because it's been so burned, the ground celebrates with the most florid green you can imagine once it soaks the raindrops into the burnt crevasses.

We're in Fort Davis and I'm taking an unusual amount of time to do nothing. When my normal chattering critical voice begins to nip away at my mind, telling me that I won't finish my novel, or save the world's children, or even be much of a cub scout mom for that matter...I just take a nap. Or I drive out to the Chihuahuan Desert Nature Center  to sit in the botanical garden and write for an hour. Or....I take a picture like the one on the left.

As soon as we drove into Fort Davis, I was struck by the new green grass and beautiful white flowers set against the burnt remains of cacti and trees. Beauty springing from ashes. Creativity growing out of exhaustion. Love thumbing its nose at pain. Sometimes spiritual messages are subtle and take years to work out. Sometimes they hit you upside the head like a two by four.

Or like a desert flower blooming out of the ashes.