The Hunt en Route
Anza Borrego Desert State Park
Early March. Spring. Spring in the desert of Southern California. And the sun is finally smiling upon me, grinning ray to ray onto the desert plants. Breathing it’s hotness onto my bare legs. And the epidermal cells suck it in past the skin, through muscle and blood, right into the bone. But even better than that—I can feel the marrow starting to heat up as I stroll into Hellhole Canyon in the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park. I’m on the hunt—for spring wildflowers, of course.
I am on the hunt—for ALL that is blooming here in the Anza-Borrego desert—maybe not the “superblooom” to come, but the fragility and beauty of the moment. I walk with my Wildflower guide to common blooms from the ranger station. I manage to find 23 out of 48 on the pages. BUT...I find a handful not there too, like white lupine, chuparosa, chia, and Emory's indigo bush. That counts for something.
Galleta Meadows Slideshow
The late Dennis Avery, land owner of Galleta Meadows Estates envisioned the idea of adding 'free standing art' to his property with original steel welded sculptures created by artist/welder Ricardo Breceda'
130 full-sized metal sculptures are inspired by creatures that roamed this same desert millions of years ago. The artworks range from prehistoric mammals to historical characters, fanciful dinosaurs, and a 350-foot-long fanciful serpent.
Check out the dragon who even let me pet it.
Fonts Point
Highway S22
The Hunt for a Woman
He pushes the card across the library conference room table in my direction and I read it.
“Nope. No, No…..I won’t ever read this,” I say and try to push the card back in his direction.
Confused, he just stares at me.
“I’ve been a custom cabinetmaker for thirty four years, “I say. “I'm trying to work my way out of the business.”
The business card advertises Mark Kerson’s first published book called The Elements of Building--A Business Handbook for Residential Builders and Tradesmen.
A light bulb goes off in Mark. “You’re a woman,” he proclaims.
“I’m glad it’s obvious,” I say. Others are arriving into the conference room for the weekly writers group. While popping into the Borrego Springs public library to use their computer and wifi, I had perused the library calendar with the meeting on it just an hour and a half later, and felt I should stay and participate.
“I mean….my second book that I’m now working on is a series of interviews with those in the trades. It’s a different approach to talking about the importance of knowing the business side, and I was recently told I can’t just interview white guys. I need minorities……and women.”
“Ah, I am indeed a woman in the trades.”
“How long will you be around?” he asks. “Would you be willing to be interviewed?”
And this is how it starts. After the meeting, I meet him at his place just up the road and he roots around for his recording equipment. But the perfection of the late afternoon beats down on the process.
“Maybe a short hike while there's still light?” he asks.
“Of course.” I never pass up a hike. But then, it’s dinner time, and he can’t find his recorder to go with the microphone. I’m offered a snack of mushroom soup and homemade bread, the spare bedroom for the night...
...and breakfast before he's finally ready with his set up. He's managed to connect the mic into his laptop, and we’re ready to go. I sit down with a cup of tea and lean just a bit towards the mic.
“Tell me how you got interested in woodworking,” he starts. And two and a half hours later, we wrap up the interview, and I’m off to continue the hunt for wildflowers. And some needed silence….
Little Blair Valley
Breaking free from the parched desert soil, a carpet of yellow spans a good part of the the valley.