refection time!
I wanted, of course, to organize my thoughts in a polished reflection. That, of course, has simply not occurred. So here is my last desert newsletter (!!), in the form of very very scattered bits and pieces from my last week in El Centro and a bit beyond. whoops!
(from our last week in the field)
It rained last week- twice! The first time was especially exciting. It came after a dust storm. I stood outside on a street by my car (had just walked out of yoga), and let the drops hit me. 3 kids ran around in circles and lay on the pavement and whooped and screamed in excitement. I waited around for more, and rain kept falling, but it never became a full-on storm.
So I sort of forgot about it until Monday morning. We were driving through the desert, as per usual, and I was like “Beatrice! Woah! It’s green up there!”. Like, bright green. It looked like a golf course up ahead - a secret desert golf course. But no! It was Pectis papposa, a sweet little baby annual (I picked up that phrasing from Beatrice, for sure). Just scattered in this one wandering clump. We got out and frolicked, faces to the tiny yellow flowers. They smelled, according to the wildflower book, like “lemon scented furniture polish.” I counted on my fingers how many days it had taken for these tiny seeds - who had been waiting in this secret clump for who knows how long - to turn into a community of vibrant, smelly, bee-attracting friends covered in delicate yellow flowers. 6 days. 6 days!!!! Less than a week. Not just to grow their shoots and come alive but also to create a bouquet of flowers. That, my friends, that is crazy-town. They got straight to work. I am not over it. All from a little sip of water and lots of desert sun. That's some magical shit right there.
Later in the week we drove through expanses of green Ocotillo. The dry sticks had just been waiting for rain to put out hundreds of delicate leaves. They looked like green-tea pocky candies. Needless to say, I am overjoyed that we have been able to witness a bit of rain after months of dryness, just before we leave. A reminder of seasons shifting, that no matter what the current state, eventual change is an inevitability.
here are Pectis papposa:
The whole idea with this project is to collect seeds that have genetic adaptations to the local environment. Then, when restoration work is done in the area, they can do so using species that have learned to live here. Just, like, helping the plants along, I guess. It’s work I can feel good about. I also think it is a good thing that we (whoever's collecting) get to know the area so well in the process.
This particular project will include habitat restoration for the desert tortoise, peninsular bighorn sheep, desert pupfish, and flat-tailed horned lizard. We did not see any of these creatures (sad), but maybe someday (fun!).
I have loved getting to know El Centro.
I keep thinking back to first arriving here and stepping out of my car into the blow dryer heat. Looking around at the fast food chains as far as the eye can see and thinking - ok! So…. here we are.
It’s this little agricultural valley in the middle of the desert. It’s a border town, in between in many ways. It’s beautiful, even in the heat, with desert sunrises and sunsets and Ocotillo everywhere and the most picturesque sand dunes. There’s military planes overhead and mountains teeming with bombing zones. Canals of many sizes criss-cross the landscape, both in and outside of town. You kind of have to drive to get anywhere. And I live in this little suburb with streets named after trees and birds and Beatrice lives in a parallel universe where they are the most basic people’s names instead. She lives on Josh street and I’m on Willow Bend dr. It’s a silly place.
About a month or two into my time here, I started checking the skate park every time I drove by, which is often since it’s in the middle of town. Doesn’t matter if it's 4 in the morning, or if it’s the middle of the day and 115 degrees out, I always look.
I found a little yoga studio very early on in my time here, and have gone every so often. Gina’s studio is connected to her husband’s BBQ restaurant and when I first got here she was just starting out, but it’s grown so much! She’s added classes, welcoming anyone who wants to teach, and people (such as myself) are so appreciative of her yoga offerings.
And in the heat of summer people who are still in the valley (most places are closed and people go on vacation) bop through in that silly mental space that heat seems to induce, making it through stark dust storms and, eventually in August, flash flood warnings. I get offered bottled water wherever I go. I feel looked-out for. This is a kind place.
I don’t really know what else to say, except that I feel happy to have been plopped into this random town for 6 months, where fresh veggies are cheap and people are nice. Hopefully I’ll come back for more winter and spring someday.
(from a San Diego escapade)
I am sitting cross-legged on the concrete, outside the museum of us in Balboa Park. Wearing the green hat that I’ve worn all season, except when I forgot it, and then, after, on the days that I chose to wear the camo hat I picked up at the gas station instead. What a rich 6 months it’s been! I’ve enjoyed having a project, a “mission”. Have experienced an almost surprising amount of tear-prickled moments in the field. Often while looking at Asclepias or bugs, but other plants trigger it too, and often in the early mornings. While the past 2 months have been hard - I’ve often felt trapped, lonely, or uninspired, which tricks me into forgetting how much I’ve learned - when I stop to think about it I remember that, at the very least, I am now friends with at least 30 plants that I did not have a clue about before. What an exciting thing! This task of wandering about to find some seeds has allowed me a sustained glimpse into an environment that I would not have gotten any other way. Had it simply been up to me and my wandering eyes, I would have passed by roadside ditches that turned out to be teeming with excitement. I would have stayed in on days that I did not feel like wandering around the desert. Now, more than ever, I feel blown away by the absurd fantasy that is the ever-changing world around us.
THANK YOU thank you ThANK yoU all for reading and even, at times, replying. It has made me feel light and happy and full. I am leaving with the sense that a door has been cracked open, quite a bit wider than it was before, and I am looking in - looking around - at friends - plant friends - everywhere (thanks Beatrice)!! And there's so many more friends to be made, so much more frolicking to be done (sweeet!).
What a world!
<3
maya