I've lived in, near, around, on top of, and with the deserts of southwest America for my entire life. I've lived in all of them except the desert of west texas. With good reason but I'm not going to get into that at present. The southwestern deserts will kill you straight up on some days when it's too freaking hot or too freaking cold or somebody forgot to bring enough water which is a sure fire death sentence no doubt. Then there are days when these deserts will offer up a day that is sublime. Wondrously beautiful and the sights, sounds, quiet, and clean air can be staggering to experience. It is definitely a zen-esque adventure. Wednesday was one of those rare days when the desert welcomed my wife, our dog Emme, and moi with open arms and skies that are a shade of blue that is rarely seen outside of the Mojave Desert. Mind you, all of the deserts of southwestern U.S. have days such as the one we shared with the ancients. You simply can't experience all of them at once. Well I suppose you might possibly could should you stumble onto some method of pan dimensional localized presence dealy but as that hasn't really found plausibility, well, and oh well. Our morning started out with the hit the road drill before sunup and at the local cement pond there was a flock of cormorants. I've seen cormorants before but not ever a flock of the birds. I do like seeing the cormorants as they are really kind of a goofy bird and seem wholly out of place in the Mojave Desert. Smooth ride to the VoF and what an amazingly beautiful morning. I found a smallish oasis that I'd never even considered before and yet ... there it was. Green grass and new green grass and the Mojave critters had been there and left maybe twenty or thirty minutes before I got to where they'd bedded down. Desert bighorns and burros and I think they'd been bedding down together. Plenty of fresh tracks and fresh plops. You know ... dung ... animal shit that you're going to watch where you step as their crap is a bugger to dig out of your boots. And then ... moccasin tracks. I'm pretty certain that's exactly what these tracks were. I've seen all manner of tracks all around our deserts and I have never found moccasin tracks. Not ever. I'm perfectly willing to concede that these tracks were NOT moccasin tracks but, I don't know of any animal that could make tracks like these. The tracks headed off west and I followed them for as long as I could see them but, I lost the tracks at some hard pan desert. I like to think that the ancients had offered me a rare glimpse into what used to be. Can't prove any of it ... so what I think... I know what I saw and I offered my thanks to the Mojave and the ancients. And just like that our morning was over, dog was exhausted, and both me and the missus were ready for some food. On the drive back to the big road was when I spotted a roadrunner. A big male roadrunner and I do love seeing me some roadrunners. Just the one mind you but that certainly does not take the thrill out of spotting one. So headed back east on the big road (I-15) some power company construction crew is planting new power line poles. Big poles. I haven't a clue as to what might be up with that BUT ... parked near the top of one of these new eyesores to grace our desert was a bald eagle. A truly rare sight to see along the big road and newly installed power poles. The installation of the poles went all the way to Bunkerville. You'll possibly remember Bunkerville and the Bundy klan standoff with the federales some years back. I really have NO idea about those poles but to Bunkerville? Some weird shit going on there boy and I mean to tell you. So ... desert splendor, cormorants, roadrunners, and bald eagles with a sprinkling of Mojave magic to top the morning off. The above are some of the reasons are why I live in the desert. Now for some Thursday machine art.
line -
bogata -
finale -
master -
escape -
what -
mask -
enrage -
our day ended with lunch from Poncho's Taco Shop. tostadas carnitas ... dang fine eating no doubt. 😏








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