
April 22 - Los Cabos, Mexico
in the Sonoran Desert that lies between the Sea of Cortez and the Sierra Madres
Its morning here and the desert smells like rain. Clouds are splattered flat like pancakes against a sky so blue its hard to tell where the sky ends and the sea begins. This smell of rain is the smell of the desert aching for moisture. Its hard to believe a thing can hope so hard that it smells. But that's just what this is-- a hope so fierce that it smells like rain. These flimsy clouds are not cooperating today. Hope disappears on winds made warm by the sun -- now rising heavy from the Sierra Madres.
My morning walk is full of treasures and hidden in these treasures: memories. I found an oyster shell today - marooned in the flotsam and jetsam of desert wash, held hostage by a cactus. Imagine an oyster surviving the pounding surf of this Sea of Cortez before me. It never could. No, my little fossilized treasure bespeaks to a very different time in this land -- a memory held deep inside its bony shell of an inland lake of brackish sea-- where this oyster found refuge in still waters.
Imagine how this place must have looked then. Now, everything has changed -- even the rains have gone. I wonder if these ancient creatures ever had sense of the changes that were to come. Pink granite thrusting


No comments:
Post a Comment