January moves across the landscapes of the desert. The month’s diurnal agenda, filled with sharp shivery bits of time, is cause for hesitation. With the winter like weather comes hurried shuffles from home to car, car to work, work to car and car to home. Nevertheless, the call to step out into its brumal embrace falls through the windshield. And as the day’s end moves closer, my foot grows weighted against the pedal.
Sunrise on November 10, 2012.
On the 10th, 11th and 12th of October Las Vegas received an unusual storm, dropping upwards of an inch of rain. So on Friday morning I headed out to a spot that provides a sweeping view of the Red Rock Canyon NCA and took a picture of the breaking of the storm during sunrise. It’s a shot I have been waiting a long time to capture. The never-ending days of cloudless skies makes a moment like this very rare.
One random companionless cloud drifts indifferently over my plastered box, igniting a debate within my head. Over the Sheep Range, another cloud, this one thick with moisture and building towards the upper levels of the atmosphere prompts further discussion. Should I consider it a sign? Will the day mutate into something worthy of a blistering battle with the sun? I can’t help but be an optimist, so I grab my gear and melt into my 170° F car seat. The whine of a Dog Day Cicada, playing favorites with the tree in my yard, is muted once I slam the door and start the engine. I’ve left my sunglasses on the dash again and am left squinting angrily at the sun filled roadway, holding them in the cool air that blows from the vents. An iPod and an iced coffee rest to my right in the center console cup holders. The temperature reads 108° F and it is hot!
Relying on the weatherman in Las Vegas is akin to receiving advice from a baker on a pop quiz for a chemistry class. Come to think of it, perhaps a baker would be better suited as a weatherman here, seeing as we live in an oven. I will say, the one thing the Las Vegas weather folk tend to predict correctly is the wind. Bad predictions aside, I do rely heavily on the off chance of a thunderstorm to motivate me. There are few more awesome events during summer in the Mojave than a drenching of rain to chill the troposphere. I have seen the temperature drop from 110° F to the mid 60’s in a matter of minutes. The redolence the moisture provides creates an explosion of awe within the olfactory senses. And for just a few precious moments, it seems as if you can hear the collective sigh of all things lively within this roasting rock filled range.
Over the last few months I have done what I can to enjoy the Mojave. I have taken a few trips further abroad, such as in the mountains of Montana. But seeing as this blog tends towards a desert theme, I thought better to leave those out. So below are some images I have selected that reflect the more interesting moments I encountered over this years Mojave summer and thought I would just wrap it up before the active fall and winter months to come. I hope you enjoy them…
100 degrees and sunny, 100 degrees and sunny, 100 degrees and sunny. This is the usual forecast a desert dweller faces when they check their weather app and it is the one I confirmed this morning. Sometimes it seems as if this trend will never end and follows deep into the months of September and October. My eye twitches as I hastily toss my phone on the dresser. The hum of the air conditioner is a constant soundtrack to the slow hot moments of what should not be summer and that damn Dog Day Cicada is whining and clicking away. But alas, I can see the head of a cumulonimbus cloud peaking above the rooftop of the neighbors house. Maybe today won’t be such a bad day after all. No thanks to the weatherman anyways.
End Summer Begin Fall…please
I’m thinking these panoramas represent pretty well the stretch of time since my last post. No excuses, just a bump back into it. The summers heat should be fading soon. The lonely landscapes lie waiting and I’m fairly sure the internet does too.
End Downtime, Begin Countdown…
Stained dark and blunt with presence, bashed up over years of abuse. These rocks as they are, sit into the endless nights, wrestling with existence. Pushing their way into the searing days, sitting patiently through the drenching and the winds, only to reveal to the observer, the beauty of the universe in its most intimate state. Naked, narcissistic and new.
It’s tough to explain the settled yet ever changing moments of dusk in the desert. Mostly it is silent, at least on the rare windless days, but even then it seems empty. Sat down in sweeping motions towards each horizon. Full of serene dispassion. The sense of place, like a child lying down with one eye on the carpet of the living room, is vast and stretching on towards forever.
Obscurity is night’s super power. Except in comparison to what it seems to hide, it is boundless and truly eye opening. Every lonesome second in the desert’s witching hour resonates up from the cremated soil, through the soles of your feet, wrapping the beating tissues of your heart and then finally gushing forth from the fully dilated pupils of your eyes.
End Desert Begin City…
I took an early walk this morning to catch the sun in its advance. In the desert we can move beneath it only with respect, the power of it looms harder as the day goes on, until finally showing mercy as the earth turns a shy shoulder from its gaze. Today, however, the crafty moon will step in, blocking its rays from the surface of the earth.