Welcome to Awe Nice!, where we highlight moments of wonder while working outdoors. My name is Maddy Butcher, I'm the creator and producer of awenice and it's time for another segment that I call, Mini-Awe-Polis, a collection of observations, like hay in my jacket pockets.  If you've been listening to lately, you know that we have dedicated several segments to wildland fire fighting, specifically some moments as told by members of Interagency Hot Shot crews, who are elite wildland fire fighters charged with some of the most risky assignments. I think it would be a safe summation to say that their moments of awe were particularly adrenalin-fueled. It got me thinking about what awe means. What does it mean for me? What does it mean for my interviewees? What does it mean for you, dear listener? Roughly, awe for me means a moment in time that's memorable for what I'm seeing and experiencing with all my senses. Often, but not all the time, moments of awe are around something unexpected, something I have never witnessed before. Or, it could something that starts out as totally expected but then takes a brilliant turn which stops me in my tracks. I have moments of awe that are not adrenalin-y at all. Like seeing Niagara Falls. I have other moments that are quite adrenalin-y. Like seeing my kids run hellbent towards the Niagara River above the falls. This might sound absurd, but when you visit the Falls, you can park in a big parking lot and basically walk right up to the river's edge. Nothing's stopping you from walking right in. My memory of seeing the falls will be forever tied to screaming bloody murder as my sons, then four, six, and eight, chased gulls and sprinted towards the current that would horrendously carry them away.  It's true, as research tells us, that high emotions can cement, conflate, and even embellish memories that might otherwise fade away. Just so you know, there is no embellishment here. My rotten kids really did run for the river. And Niagara Falls is impressive. It's loud and you can feel the mist of it on your face from a long ways away.   Anyway, I've been spending some time in southern Arizona. At night, I take the dogs for a walk and do last call the horses. Sometimes I use a headlamp and when I do, I've been catching these little flecks of reflection in the dirt. At first, I thought they were just shiny parts of sand or rock. But they are not. They are the eyes of certain spiders that build burrows and scoot back in them when approached. Pretty cool. Everything here is prickly, spiny, thorny, and pokey. The dogs and horses have figured it out pretty quickly. Me, less so. Often, plants will have the obvious spines but then also less obvious, frankly impossible-to-see spines that might feel okay at first, when you make the mistake of coming into contact with them, but 10 minutes later you're mumbling and grumbling, shaking your hand and tenderly googling how best to extract prickers you can't even see.  I'm still amazed by how the birds perch and feed on cactus. I don't live near where there are saguaros. It's too cold. But I like seeing them. Did you know that it takes about 15 years for a saguaro cactus to grow 12 inches? And it takes another 60 or more years for it to grow an arm. Saguaros serve as some pretty cool homes for birds, who have, of course, figured out the prickers.  Awe, Nice! welcomes interviewees. If you have a moment you experienced while working outside and would like to share it, contact us at awenice.com. By the way, Kershaw knives, makers of some of the best pocket knives out there, has stepped up to sponsor Awe, Nice. Check out the Ken Onion line. They're excellent. Awe, Nice! also welcomes your support. You can find a donate button on our about page. Music is by my friend, Forrest Van Tuyl. Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open. Until next time.

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