My Arroyo (again)

In the past few weeks, I have spent many, many mornings walking in my special arroyo in a nearby desert park. I call it my special arroyo because I thought for a long time that no one visited it but me, Jeep Girl, and Trouble. I was wrong. It has other visitors who, like me, cover their tracks well. But, they leave wonderful objects, hidden cleverly, among the crags and crannies of unique rock outcroppings.

I discovered these unique treasures as I explored new possibilities for entry and exit to the arroyo from different directions with no paths to give them away. So do at least three others from what I can tell, although, I have yet to encounter another person there except an old cowboy that I have written about in this blog. I don’t think he is one of the three.

Why do I think three people? Each leaves behind different artifacts to indicate their presence.

One person has created a miniature gnome village among the cracks of a rock outcropping. In a large crack adjacent to the village, much lower, is a mermaid village. These are all tiny figures and objects, but they are not too faded by the sun yet, so I know it is recent.

I believe several persons are responsible for painted rounded desert rocks with simple messages of peace and love and greetings like Happy Mother’s Day that have been placed in odd, but not difficult to find places – if you look very carefully.

And finally, I found a geocache object. It is a surplus metal ammo box with a geocache log and a few objects left by geocachers who have located it.

I don’t mind sharing my arroyo with the clever folk who have seemingly been there with me all along. Yet, I have to wonder if they have seen me, secretly, as I have walked there.  Have they seen me sunbathing – sometimes nude -- on my flat table rock?  Has someone watched me and Jeep Girl during our infrequent naughty moments on a unique rock that begs women to use it?

Honestly, I think probably none of the above has happened. But someday, it could. Someday, I may discover who shares my arroyo and, I hope, meet them. I just hope I have clothes on at the time!