Sun-scorched rock: brick red with streaks of black form towering walls enclosed by even higher walls Scorched and brittle, junipers and sage root in the sand and collect every drop of water that passes nearby. Deep in the canyons: a slice of shade, a sand-encrusted puddle. Dripping down the rocks, snow-melt on a spring day shines opalescent in the sun. A warble among the junipers— first one bird scoots, then its friends follow along. A towering spire, carved out from the rest of the canyon, is the work of the millennia. A tiny stream flows down the cliff face, hardly more than a drop— tiny cuts like a chisel. As the sun sets below the canyon wall, nightfall seems so near. It won’t be dark for hours. What’s hanging onto life in the remnants of that pool that’s hardly even mud? It’s wintertime on the Island in the Sky; descend into the canyon in search of spring.