This is the desert I remember growing up in. Imagine this scene except with newly open purple Lupin growing in many of the open spaces;
In the shade under that center bush there is a napping coyote, not easily seen. A 3rd grade girl, brand new to the desert is walking home from Brownies to an old house on Hesperia Rd. She’s ventured off the road to pick Lupin for her mom. She startles the coyote, and he her, but neither of them run away. They each stay still and cock their heads, the coyote on his haunches about fifteen feet from the child with her arms full of Lupin. She stares, awestruck. It is her first coyote, but somehow she knows who he is, and that he will always be in her life, watching her, protecting her. Finally, he lays down and curls back up in the shade under the bush. She backs away then turns to see how to get back to the road. At home she presents her mom with the flowers, and gets both a “thank you” and a gently warning not to pick wild flowers again, but to leave them for others to enjoy and for the seeds from one plant to fall and be carried in the wind for another bloom at another time.
Throughout my life, coyote has appeared to me several times, in unexpected places, always with a message and always to assure me of his presence in my life.
~ Sue Strohman Bronson – 2017