I wondered what would cause this almost perfect line of very similar clouds. I saw them as we sped through the desert near Phoenix, Arizona last winter.
PHOTO CHALLENGE OF PLACES WE SIT…OR MIGHT SIT…OR ART ABOUT SITTING
Welcome to week 2 of Pull up a Seat. Take a load off and share a favorite perch by linking your post to this one, either with a comment or pingback. For more detailed directions go to Pull Up a Seat page.
Thank you to everyone who is participating. It is really fun to see all the different ideas conjured up by the theme.
- Morpeth Road
- Middleton Road
- That Little Voice
- Cee’s Photography
- Nut House Central
- Don’t Hold Your Breath
- Chronicles of an Anglo-Swiss
- Teleporting Weena
- What if we all cared?
- The 59 Club
- Heart to Heart
Follow up: the seat I showed in last week’s post was for jockey training.
Here are my photos for this week. They take a sober turn. I almost cried when I saw this and realized that someone had built a makeshift shelter from two dumped sofas and some other desert trash.
I took these photos in late August, in the desert, in an area where people, especially contractors, dump many things in order to avoid paying the fees at the local landfill. It appeared unoccupied, so hopefully its builder found a safer refuge from the elements.
Over to you (hopefully on a happier note).
It IS Easy Being Green!…all you need is a little water.
Desert green: The unusual amount of rainfall that has caused distress in other areas has resulted in a very green desert.
This plant has green branches because it has adapted to the desert by having its branches photosynthesize. Leaves lose too much water.
I have spent more time in the Desert than I care to have done. For me this is primarily the Coachella Valley in California which is part of the Sonoran Desert ecosystem, a rain shadow desert east of the Santa Rosa Mountains. Although I don’t particularly like the desert, I have been going for over forty years.
My first visit to the desert was in 1972. My grandparents had moved there to work as caretakers for a compound in Thousand Palms, and my family drove down to spend Christmas with them. It was out of my experience to be in a place that was warm in the winter.
The landscape was so very different from our home in the Puget Sound area that it was intriguing. The stark landscape was beautiful and the plants and animals that adapted to the harsh environment fascinated.
Especially the palm trees that popped up seemingly out of nowhere. If you are ever in the area I highly recommend visiting the Thousand Palms Oasis, a preserve run by the Nature Conservancy. Here are some photos that my dad took on that original trip in the area of the Thousand Palms Oasis, it was not a nature preserve at the time.
I don’t hate the desert passionately, but find it unpleasant to be there. My curiosity about it as an environment has been satisfied or fried out of me and “been there, done that”, in most cases more than once, to the local spots of interest.
The area has grown up and there is not as much desert there as there used to be. All the construction feels the same, visit one faux adobe shopping center and you have pretty much seen them all.
I hate that jaded feeling, I pride myself on being able to find interesting things to see and do where ever I go, but the heat, aridity, wind, and that extra large, sharp sand that infiltrates no matter which shoes I wear to cut into my feet really make it hard to keep a good attitude going.
One disturbing reality is that, as the population of the area has skyrocketed and the faux adobe developments have proliferated, the open desert has often been treated as a dump. I wrote a bit about this in my post The Ephemeral, The Eternal & Trash. An example: near where my property was someone (probably someone who had a contract to dispose of the waste from a dog park) had dumped a series of three foot high piles of doggie doo-doo along the edge of a dirt track. As the years pass it is becoming dust in the wind, but I first noticed it something like six years ago and it was still distinguishable last year. You see furniture, tires, sometimes even whole households’ worth of stuff, just dumped. It sits drying out and being sandblasted for a very, very long time before it either blows away or is buried.
Here are some pictures from my trips to the desert since I discovered digital cameras (if you have read this far you need a break, and the desert does have it’s own, rather stark, beauty).
My most recent trip was last month, when I went down with my grandmother to sell the property. My post Was it all a dream? was from that trip, which I meant to be my last trip, but on returning I promised Grandma that I will take her back this winter, if all goes well (she loves it there…or at least the idea of it she formed in her head 40+ years ago).
It was not my first “last trip down”, my post I am on a Journey…, is from another “last trip” to the desert, and My Worst Nightmare, Styling in Palm Springs-Practical, but not pretty and Nightmare Part 2 are about the trip last August. I was surprised how many of the posts I have written have been about the desert.
I don’t long for my last “last trip” any more, because I realized that it will mean that Grandma is no longer able to travel.
They just flashed a warning across the top of the television program about severe thunderstorms in Riverside County. I think this may be the guilty cloud. As I was taking pictures of it about a half hour before the warning I saw several sparks of lightning.
This is a continuation of a previous post, My Worst Nightmare. Above you see the greeting comittee. It was 112 degrees Fahrenheit, in and out when I arrived at the trailer. Swamp cooler was off because the water had to be shut off at the street to do the repair.
It was all about location. The little crack in that pipe had good water pressure. It caused electric usage to triple and water usage to more than double; the monthly cost of this “little crack” was well over $200. It went on for six weeks.
I guess it was lucky that it happened in the desert in the summer: it is so hot that the moisture damage was minimal, some localized mold mostly on a door warped beyond repair.
I suppose it could be worse: while the phone in my hotel room doesn’t work, the air conditioning does, and it is only supposed to get to 112 degrees F today…so I shouldn’t be such a moaning Myrtle.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).”
Welcome to my nightmare:
Owning a single-wide mobile home in the desert with a pop-out sitting on a quarter acre of hell with crappy roads that are getting worse with no end in sight.
Last Friday Grandma said that the power bill was really high. It didn’t make sense based on previous usage and no one is there right now so it should be lower. I looked at the data, then called the electric company. They went into their data and could see that for the first week after the trailer was vacant the power usage was very consistent and at a lower than occupied level, suddenly on June 7 it jumped by a factor of three. It has stayed at that high level ever since.
The lady I spoke with mentioned that sometimes when a property is vacant people just pull up with a motor home and plug in. She suggested I call the police to go look around. They did, no outward sign of a problem, thank goodness. But now the mystery requires trouble shooting from far away.
Before this came up I was already having nightmares about the trailer, I believe they came from knowing what a gosh awful decision it was to purchase it in the first place, doing so even though I knew it was a bad decision…and not being able to get rid of the cursed thing and move on.
My new nightmare is a week in the desert in August. 107 degrees and 30 mile an hour winds…what’s not to love?
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).”
Straight ahead, as far as the eye can see.
Inspired by Cee’s Which Way Challenge.
Walking in the desert with the dogs for the last time I saw this mirror. It is a sadness to me that the desert is used as a trash dump, but there was a kind of beauty in the way the blue sky was mirrored. The cracks made it seem like a parody of water in a dry place in a state experiencing crippling drought.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Broken.”