...it’s the (lack of) humidity. But the memory of the salubrious sunshine is already fading. Oh, sigh. We spent two-and-a-half days in Phoenix, making our annual pilgrimage to the shrine of spring baseball. The A’s won one, lost two—but really, scores are (almost) beside the point at Spring Training. Our motel was just across the street from Papago Park , which means I was able to run at daybreak for two days in a row. Or two days running, if you will. I might have been a lizard in a previous incarnation—that’s how much I love the desert. The creature I was earlier in this life, of course, was a child of the high Nevada desert. The years I spent in Florida in the 70s were punctuated by occasional trips back to Nevada during which I was soaked up that bone-deep essence of “home” that I’ve never found anywhere other than in the desert. Anyway, the Phoenix runs were great, bringing plenty of rabbit and quail sightings. Did you know Papago Park is home to both cottontails and jackrabb...