Twentynine Palms, July 2011
Page 8: Biomorphic Monzonite Granite
Got up early and the last vestiges of the humidity are a thing of the past.
Chilly.
Just the way it’s supposed to be when the sun is about to crest the Sheephole Mountains.
Had to wear an actual shirt, as opposed to a tank-top.
Coffee and howdydoo, and me and Newt are on our way up into Joshua Tree National Park.
With just a few exceptions, it's been all about the sky up to this point, but now the Earth gets to speak.
And at this point, the words fail to exist.
Vast, clear, unfettered, and achingly beautiful to the point where it can bring tears to your eyes.
The rains of the last several days have taken the vegetation to full vibrant life and color.
We gained a respectable amount of altitude getting here, and the air had a marvelously refreshing quality to it.
I found myself having to make a conscious effort to resist the urge to simply walk out into it, keep stepping, and never come back.
I dunno.
Why do I even try?
The pictures also signally fail to convey the sense of it as well. But you're going to be seeing a lot of them anyway. They all seem to do better in full size, so try and to give 'em a click and a proper looking at. When time permits.
Suffice it to say, if I was condemned to spending the rest of my life out here, I would consider myself the luckiest man in the world.
Oh to hell with this.
Think I’ll go do a little more de-spotting work on the photographs. That’ll be useless too, but perhaps not quite as useless as writing these words.
De-spotting the pictures has become a Sisyphean task. The camera is unhappy, and no matter how clean I get it, the spots and blemishes return, every time, and the more shots I take, the more things degrade as the shots go on.
Poor old camera. I wish I could make it happy, once again.
Here's what it's done though, and I think it's done a half decent job.
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