The Desert is an immense space. The dusty tang of sagebrush and mesquite lit the fuse of some ancient memory of people crossing the parched landscape en-route to more fertile areas. We happened to be there at an optimum time after winter rains had resulted in a blossoming of wild flowers and strange hybrid cacti - part animal, part plant. The energy of the sun seemed to power the laboratory of nature, brilliantly. The light landed on the abundant flora with intensity. It was dreamlike and created a stunning, verdant memory.
The perfume of the vast landscape contained a power of persuasion that engulfed us. As we breathed the air, a sense of experiencing a kind of truth, the feeling of the ever present ‘now’ crackled with emotional notations from the past.
Now as I write this from my desk on the East Coast, the view from my window is characterized by a muted winter palette, urban sounds and scents in the distance, the contrails of jets above, I am reminded of the experience of the desert triggering an impossible utopian appeal.