The sky, palms, hedgerows and this fallow field are alive with woodpeckers, golden orioles, crimson cardinals, daft crested quail, the ever curious visiting hummers, little tits and big tits in the bushes (if only) all flitting about, squawking and chittering, and over head, cranes, kestrels, hawks, osprey. And I walk down to the long empty beaches to watch the elegant frigate birds soaring, captivating my soul, and I fly with them in their spirit of infinity. But here, in the middle of this great vibrant oasis in the Sonoran desert, I sit. And I have no water.

It’s complicated, like any currency, and water is arguably the only true currency of life. I feel like I’ve made all the right moves, spoken to the right people (the comisariado del Ejido, Juez del agua, tenant farmer neighbours and land owners and all their cousins (everyone seems related) who all have their water. But as yet, it is denied me. I am told by the spirit of place that it is coming, and I must be patient. Living out of water bottles for what, 6 weeks now, cooking, showering, watering my little nursery – total pain in the arse – and the spirit says, be patient. Fine.

I am on a hectare here and it is will be fecund, floribundant, productive and paradisical, as soon as I get water and on my game, and I am champing at the bit.

Still, I feel I have to earn my place somehow here, again, like getting to burning man, you haven’t really arrived till you get completely whited out in a dust storm and emerge a part of the place.

And whilst I am surrounded by life, a seemingly diverse creative community and infinite possibility, I still feel alone in my heart.

Therefore today, I am going to make a beehive.

Last night as I was sleeping,

I dreamt—marvellous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvellous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.

Finished the hive on Christmas morning, and spent the rest of the day on the beach. (See that sunset 😉

And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvellous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night as I slept,
I dreamt—marvellous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.

– Antonio Machado

Anoche cuando dormía

Anoche cuando dormía
soñé ¡bendita ilusión!
que una fontana fluía
dentro de mi corazón.
Dí: ¿por qué acequia escondida,
agua, vienes hasta mí,
manantial de nueva vida
en donde nunca bebí?

Anoche cuando dormía
soñé ¡bendita ilusión!
que una colmena tenía
dentro de mi corazón;
y las doradas abejas
iban fabricando en él,
con las amarguras viejas,
blanca cera y dulce miel.

Anoche cuando dormía
soñé ¡bendita ilusión!
que un ardiente sol lucía
dentro de mi corazón.
Era ardiente porque daba
calores de rojo hogar,
y era sol porque alumbraba
y porque hacía llorar.

Anoche cuando dormía
soñé ¡bendita ilusión!
que era Dios lo que tenía
dentro de mi corazón