I set out to resolve the desert.
Could this vast wasteland be resolved?
The dog and I plodded down the wash, a heavy saunter of feet in this unsteady place. The rain sometimes sneaks in at the dead of night and makes waves, like swishing skirts that speak in hushed, purple-grey against the the dry, dry land.
The thirsty land, so dull . . . the water is only a brittle memory by morning.
Our feet slip heavily through the sand. Four paws, two feet and the unending hymn of hush-hush-hush in the unending heat of twilight.
Is this space, waste?
I’ve learned a few things wandering in the twilight.
Twilight marks the map of difference, where the seasons open up or take their leave. Subtle Summer slips through the silty washes like nighttime rain. But what of Spring? What is an Autumn? Does Winter actually come? Or does the lasting, passionate heat of Summer still lie deep in the sand?
How does one resolve the brittle desert? It clutches onto life, as if it knows that secret rains are coming, will come.
Won’t they come?
It takes the desert little to bloom. So little. And yet it’s called a wasteland.
This land, is not wasted.
It has waited.
And for those who wait, those who thirst, those whose lives have been dry . . . they know. They know what it’s like to drink a bit of nectar left by the morning dew and to live another desert day . . . full, full to the brim.
“It will be hot,” they said.
“It’s a dry heat,” I said.
The desert is meant to be lived.
Mary Arteche, Founder & Editor-
Mary Arteche and her family live a small life in a vibrant way in Sky Valley, California. For her day job, she homeschools her kiddos and is a nanny to her niece. For her side gig, she’s a website designing, marketing consulting, art directing ninja. She’s passionate about the outdoors and making life an adventure. She loves printmaking, hiking, photography and finding the best cup of coffee. She just completed the Yosemite Half Marathon. Really.
Shoot me an email, I’d love to talk to you! liveintobeauty (at) gmail (dot) com