Time In The High Desert

The High Desert is much different than all of the other types of deserts. The most noticeable is that there are no large  cactus here. In fact, the only cactus found here are small, and low to the ground. But the color palette is one that soothes my soul just by being surrounded by it. And then there is the [light]. It is the quality of light that has been sought out by artists, and painters, for centuries - especially the early morning, and late evening light. There is the silence, accentuated by the subtle sounds of small birds, or the occasional passing dove, or Raven. Even the near-constant breeze, which sometimes escalates to a wind, has its own sound, that is perfectly compatible with everything else. And when the breeze pauses, there is a stillness that is felt with the entirety of one’s being.

The tan color of the earth holds a visual background to the blue-greens of the sage. Dotted about the landscape are small, dome-shaped bushes covered in tiny yellow tips.

And the occasional deep green of the Juniper Cedar Tree that looms above everything else - but as one draws closer, the heavily textured, and twisted surface of their trunks is a visual splendor in, and of itself. As one walks across the High Desert landscape, they will be treated to tiny flowering plants, that remain close to the ground, each bearing tiny flowers - some yellow, and some purple. These offerings cannot be scene by the viewer who simply stands at the edge, and gazes at the overall. These gems are only for those who venture into the landscape - to experience it as nature intended it.

And then there is the rejuvenating scent of sage, as one wraps their hand, ever-so-gently around the tops of the plant, as they continue to walk. The skin is embed with the scent, that one can hold to their nose, and breathe in deeply - time and time again. When the scent fades, simply allow the hand to rub over the tops of another plant.

When one stands back, and observes the landscape of the High Desert, overall, it appears as a soft palette of color, and texture. But when one explores closely, one is made aware of the resilience, to the harsh environment, that is built into each of these plants. Root systems, of these plants, for the most part, grow straight down, into the earth - for any semblance of moisture, and to protect themselves from the harsh rays of the intense sunlight.

Yesterday I spoke with my friend, Peter, who explores the nuances of the desert, frequently. Peter is also an aficionado in the art of Bonsai - and is currently experimenting with desert plants that have already had their growth stunted, by the harshness of the environment. he told me of small specimens, that he has come across in the desert, that are as young as 25 years, and as old as 100 years, or more. “They grow slow here”, he said. “But transplanting them from the desert environment, into pots, is difficult”, he continued. “They tend to not survive”.

As I walked in the desert, earlier this afternoon, I began to look at the plants from Peter’s perspective. I came across one (that I felt compelled to make a photograph of]. I have even been contemplating returning to it, and attempting to retrieve it. It is situated in the center of two worn tire ruts in the dirt road. It seems that its only connection to the ground is one center root that has gone deep. the other roots are fully exposed, and driftwood-dry. The plant, even though it appears to be old, is only about 12 inches high; but still it manages to, not only survive, but to bloom its tiny yellow flowers.

I had also brought back with me, from this excursion into the desert, a small piece of tree trunk, or tree branch, that is excessively dried, and weathered. It is only about eight inches in length, or height (depending on how one views it), but it has such a beauty to it. I want to photograph it with my large-format camera when I return home.

The rains have begun again.