One time I saw a tiny Joshua tree sapling growing not too far from the old tree. I wanted to dig it up and replant it near our house. I told Mom that I would protect it from the wind and water it every day so that it could grow nice and tall and straight. Mom frowned at me. “You’d be destroying what makes it special,” she said. “It’s the Joshua tree’s struggle that gives it its beauty.” — Jeannette Walls
I am about a mile away from my car in the Lost Horse Valley in Joshua Tree National Park. Joshua trees are scattered around me, each one seeming as if it’s pointing in a different direction. Are they trying to confuse me? Perhaps it’s their cruel joke. As the sun gets closer to setting, I hear a group of cactus wrens start to raise a commotion about one hundred yards to my right. What has them riled up? Ah, a coyote is trotting along the base of the hill. I wonder if it sees me? Surely it does–they don’t miss much. I can hear cars driving by at the head of the valley, their passengers unaware of the story unfolding out here in the valley.
Over the last week or so I’ve spent quite a bit of time out in the Mojave Desert. During a spring following a wet winter, the flowers in the Mojave can be quite spectacular, however this year things are depauperate to say the least; in southern California we’ve gotten less than twenty percent of our normal rainfall totals this season.
Despite the bleak wildflower viewing, the Joshua tree bloom this year was reported to be the best in recorded history, with trees blooming across their entire range; whether you were in the Mojave National Preserve, the New York Mountains, the Chocolate Mountains, or Joshua Tree National Park itself, the trees were adorned with beautiful white blooms. Mojave yucca were blooming in profusion in places as well, and of course cacti dotted the hillsides with lovely splashes red, pink, purple, and yellow.
Unless something major like a Joshua tree bloom or the once-in-a-decade wildflower bloom is happening, the desert doesn’t get much press. Still, life here persists. Understanding the beauty implicit in the struggle of not only the Joshua trees but of all the plants and animals who live here gives a greater appreciation for the display they put on for the quiet observer. Is there a metaphor here for our own lives I wonder?
After the sun goes down I shoulder my backpack and start walking back to my car. Despite the hot April day, darkness will quickly drain the heat from the dry air, and before I get back to my car I am ready for a sweatshirt. I don’t see the coyote any longer. If it did see me, it certainly didn’t pay me any mind. Crickets are starting to chirp, bats are flitting over my head, hawk moths are visiting the opening evening primrose, and the calls of the cactus wren have been replaced by a poor will in the distance.
Life here persists.
Another poignant and insightful post, Greg. Perhaps we all expect life to come too easily to us. I heard today my closest friend, to whose son I am a godfather, has been treated for malignant skin cancer. It seems he will be ok – early treatment – but it just reminded me of the hurdles we go through in life. The cacti images are stunning. The first for its colour, the second for its structure. Worthy of the writing.
Thanks for the comment, Andrew. I am very sorry to hear about your friend’s cancer, but am glad it seems to have been caught early. You’re completely right, however, in that it does illustrate the hurdles we face in life–sometimes they seem to come in clumps too.
I’m glad you like the images–the claretcups (first) are my favorite cacti and I’ve really enjoyed spending some time with them this spring…
“Understanding the beauty implicit in the struggle of not only the Joshua trees but of all the plants and animals who live here gives a greater appreciation for the display they put on for the quiet observer. Is there a metaphor here for our own lives I wonder?” You are right!
Thanks, Monte–I think so too.
That was lovely. I’m in the middle of downtown San Antonio this week and have been missing my desert monument trips when growing up in AZ, lately.
It was nice to read your beautiful illustration of those things I’ve been thinking on. It’s not bad living vicariously through your travels till I can get back out there again on my own 🙂
I appreciate how you share the beauties of these places with everyone, through your work and writings.
Thanks, Krystal. It’s funny that you mention the nostalgia for the place you grew up–I’ve been discussing that with a few other friends this week. Maybe it’s spring, but that seems to be a common theme right now.
I hope you’re able to get “home” soon…
Beautiful words and images Greg. The desert is often under appreciated, but can be as magnificent as the deepest forests and highest peaks.
Thanks, Russ! I think the desert is an excellent example of a beautiful landscape that will present itself wholly to those who take the time to look.
As someone who grows cacti (I prefer cactuses even if it is incorrect)I don’t need much convincing as to the desert’s beauty although I have never visited one. I wish I could experience it as easily as you, Greg.
The theme of an easy life seems to be popping up in a few blogs lately. The concept of appreciation for a small reward after much effort is less regarded every day it appears. Not only the reward but the need for a greater experience or new possession drives the economy which now is paramount to just plain enjoying life…..how can people be bored with this beautiful planet for home? I think more people need to understand the desert, the fight and adaptation for survival and the special beauty that is held for just a moment each year.
Thanks for sharing your opinion, Steve. I didn’t know you were a cactus aficionado. I enjoy them very much, and think you would like the Mojave in spring.
I share your sentiments about our material possession-driven society and have been thinking a lot lately about the current state of the wilderness or national park experience…more on that soon.