High and Dry

With temperatures soaring in southern California, I may be one of the only ones imagining myself laying on the cracked skin of some desert that has been tarnished by the same sun. While a tropical vacation certainly would seem inviting, I find myself drawn to the solitude of no-man's land. Maybe my state-of-mind just isn't as lush as it usually is or maybe a summer of beach days has finally drawn itself out. Either way I'm craving the flat and broken earth of the desert, expanded for miles without the ability to nurture plant life or substance. Perhaps the cooler temperatures of the night would settle my urge to wander and instead lay down to stare at the stars--which shine brighter and more clear in the desert than anywhere else.

When I drive to Mammoth, I always wish I could stop and lay on the hood of my car in the Mojave Desert. Unfortunately I don't always have obliging passengers. But I've been craving a hike in Yosemite and a nap aside Lake Mary for some time now as well, so I think I'll take the next chance to center myself in the middle of nowhere. A desert where nothing is every gazed at or photographed for postcards. A place where stillness is reflected in the flat ground cover and stifling air. With any luck, that stillness with penetrate those who wish to find the same feeling.