You Can Always Go Home Again

I am, again, in the desert. I don’t know what it is about this area but it seems to have a hold on me like no other area ever has.

I find it odd, really, as this area isn’t, as far as deserts go, particularly beautiful. The Painted Desert, with its wild colors and intriguing rock forms, is a feast for the eyes.

Storm over the Painted Desert

Image by John Harwood

The Sahara? Calm and deeply moving with its yellow flowing sands.

Image from Wikimedia

But the high desert of California? Not so much. Deep in the summer, the ground is dusty and brown-gray. Even the hardy creosote have lost a bit of color.

Southwest of Ridgecrest

Image by David~O

But, and there is always a but isn’t there? But, come the spring, those two sweet weeks so very early in the year, glorious colors in gold, purple, orange, and green bathe the hard-packed ground with such vibrancy it takes my breath away.

Springtime in Ridgecrest

Image by David~O

So, I guess, this is the reason I come back, to be a part of something so fleeting that, if I blink, I could miss it.

A bit like life, actually.


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