After the Tucson summer rains would fill the arroyos around our house when I was young and the water would disappear as quickly as it came, I would walk along the damp, smooth sand searching for sand rubies. I would collect the small, dark red stones in a white handkerchief and bring them home to show my mother. I would unfold the cloth and lay it flat on the kitchen table, the rubies glistening and dancing against the white material like so many red birds.
