Off and away in the dark, before even the neighborhood roosters had begun their usual morning
ritual of crowing loud enough to wake the skeletons of Pancho Villa and his band of Dorados. I
actually thought about banging some pots and pans together as I was leaving, to wake the roosters
for a change, for sweet revenge. Instead, I let them be ... they have me outnumbered, anyway.

Mesquite trees have such beautiful shapes. Like umbrellas, or toadstools, or ... mesquite trees.
I'd wanted to make a photograph that highlighted their form, but until now the results had been
mediocre at best. I passed this tree on my way to somewhere else, a planned destination for the
morning. Out of the truck window, I saw the tree silhouetted against the lightening sky. I drove
past, and continued for another kilometer, until I realized the image was still stuck in my eyes.
So, I turned back, and made this. Quite often it's better to go with your heart, rather than with
your plan.