The sage is in bloom in the desert. Afternoon breeze carries the small across the sand, mixing with the piñon and juniper as it comes. The smell wakes up my memory, and I'm there again, 10 years old and kneeling in the sand. There's a lizard in the sage next to me, and I'm trying to capture him on film. Only he isn't cooperating, the reluctant celebrity pursued by paparazzi. So I wait. Somewhat patiently, my behind warm on the sandstone, camera ready for that moment when he pops his head out.