In West Texas these broad planes of sunset yellow and orange burn warnings into the dry eyes of every creature that watches the show. Spikes stick out of every stalk and leaf warding off the curious. Looking for an angle I knelt into a prickly pear cactus that left a patch of slivers in my leg. Dry humor. With all of its armor this defensive environment seems full of insecurity, of worry that I wish I could relieve. The cracked, rocky ground rolls out long and fast across the arms of these flat expanses. Everything is extreme : first the quiet, then the wind, then the temperatures. Even the colors glow unusually bright. But waiting for its rainy day this desert lives as evidence of survival, free of conspicuous consumption; a model of sustainability in hard times. It doesn't welcome us but we can learn from this place.
Eric, You take amazing photos. Who knew that I lived next door to a true artist? We were at the lake a few weeks ago. So quite. And the coloring, or lack of most of it, was surreal. Not quite like the hustle and bustle of summer.
ReplyDeleteSuzi Curler