SUMMER

SUMMER IS THE HOT SEASON, the green season, the growing season, the lazy season. It is the time of the year when the wide and open road beckons to the most staid and sedate of our stay-at-home neighbors, when distant places clothe themselves in their most dazzling allure. More people are around and about in summer than during any other season of the year because there is something about summer that appeals to the gypsy in all of us. The months of the long and dreamy days are months for adventuring, when you want to see what mysteries are to be found just over the horizon, what delights and surprises are to be discovered in hidden corners of new and strange lands far from home.

The leading actor in the drama of summer is the sun, a strutting character, to say the least, whose performance is always a memorable one. The sun has been called everything from a "hot stove" to a "fiery god." In reality, it is only a star, a relatively minor star, at that, when compared to the more elegant heavenly bodies. The sun, however, is the center of our solar system, and despite its minor league status in the big leagues of the universe, the energy it produces is unbelievably great. The comparatively small part of the sun's radiation that reaches us here on earth provides for all life, plant and animal. Without sunshine, our rustic little planet would be a cold, dismal place and terribly dull. There would be no rain, no breezes or wind, no clouds to accentuate the beauty of a landscape, no illuminated moon to hold hands to. The very thought of what would happen to us, if the sun went out of business, is too frightening even to consider.

The sun is the star nearest to earth. We learn from the more erudite that the sun is 93 million miles away from us and that it would take the most daring aviator, going 300 miles an hour, thirty years to reach it. The light waves from the sun, traveling 186,000 miles a second, reach the earth in eight minutes. In contrast, the light waves from the next nearest known star take four years to shed its feeble glow on our mundane existence.

In size, the sun is 864,000 miles in diameter, 109 times larger than the earth. The surface temperature of this globe of hot gas is estimated to be 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Sunshine, with which we are concerned in summer, is the result of the change of matter into energy through radioactivity or pressure. We only receive a minute part of the sun's radiation, or sunshine, but what we receive is enough to provide us with the gay and green beauty of summer.

A checkerboard of healthy forest and burned trees marks the grassy meadows along the East Fork of the Black River in the White Mountains. As in many locations burned by the Wallow Fire in 2011, this location indicates that the 538,000-acre fire's spread was anything but uniform.

ELIAS BUTLER

Considered for Our State of Water, May 2021 A spectacular lightning strike illuminates the clouds of a monsoon storm near Cameron on the Navajo Nation. Such natural fireworks displays are hallmarks of Arizona's monsoon season, which officially lasts from June 15 to September 30.

JOEL HAZELTON

Multicolored wildflowers form a thick carpet amid blackened ponderosa pine trunks along Bear Wallow Creek. This site is in the Bear Wallow Wilderness, where an improperly extinguished campfire started the Wallow Fire, the largest wildfire in Arizona's recorded history.

Considered for The Perfect Weekend in Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. August 2021 At sunset, organ pipe, saguaro and cholla cactuses, along with other desert plants, crowd the landscape beneath the distant Bates Mountains at Southern Arizona's Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. The 516-square-mile monument is home to numerous ecological treasures, including the only large stands of organ pipe cactuses in the United States.

BRUCE D. TAUBERT

Considered for Wet 'n' Wild, May 2021

LAURENCE PARENT

Considered for The Journal. June 2021

Considered for Your Wildest Dreams!, November 2021 At sunset, a rainbow forms over the iconic sandstone buttes of the Sedona area's Red Rock Country and Mingus Mountain. This area's natural beauty and numerous outdoor recreation opportunities have made it one of the most popular destinations for both Arizonans and out-of-state visitors.

Considered for When You Can't Go Any Farther, July 2021 Layered sandstone formations fill the landscape at Coyote Buttes South, a section of the Paria Canyon-Vermilion Cliff's Wilderness on the Arizona Strip. This isolated wilderness area is home to some of Arizona's most stunning geological features, including "The Wave."

JACK DYKINGA

Considered for It's Time You Get to Know Jack, September 2021 Spun by the wind, a tumbleweed forms circles in the soft sand of the Navajo Nation's Monument Valley. In the distance are Yei Bichei and the Totem Pole, two of the most recognizable formations at this Navajo tribal park, which spans nearly 92,000 acres in Arizona and Utah.

The sun sets over one of the White Mountains' seemingly endless meadows. This view is from the summit of Wahl Knoll, which reaches an elevation of 9,764 feet. In the distance, State Route 261 winds toward Crescent Lake, which is visible between two other knolls.

SUZANNE MATHIA

Considered for When You Can't Go Any Farther, July 2021 A mirror-like pool, formed after heavy rain in Monument Valley, punctuates the view as West Mitten Butte casts its shadow on East Mitten Butte. The Mittens, which are visible from Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park's visitors center, have served as the background for countless film projects.

JOEL HAZELTON

Considered for Obscure References, August 2021 Night falls on the Gypsum Reefs, a section of shoreline on the south side of Lake Mead. Photographer Joel Hazelton says this image is a "blue-hour blend". He photographed the landscape about an hour after sunset, then photographed the starry sky a few hours later and blended the images using Photoshop.

CLAIRE CURRAN

Considered for Our State of Water, May 2021 The calm water of the White Mountains' Crescent Lake mirrors a distant monsoon storm. "This photo was actually taken during deep twilight," photographer Claire Curran says. "A massive storm cell was making its way northwest toward Crescent Lake. The yellow of the cloud was due to leftover sunset illumination and lightning in the cloud."