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In the desert, patience, and the ability to be absolutely motionless, pays off. This Collared Lizard, in the the heart of the Petrified Forest, has learned that lesson well. Perching completely motionless on this piece of petrified wood, he waits. And waits. And waits. And waits.
He is so still that he blends right into the background and even when you are looking right at him, well, he just fades away from your sight. Even his bright yellow feet do not give him away, for those just meld perfectly into the petrified wood he is on. And he continues to wait.
Which is good for me, really, for it gave me a wonderful opportunity to get close enough for this shot. I really liked the way he was perched, with his head cocked just so–he was looking at me, but not at me, and although he knew I was there, I, apparently, posed no threat at all to him. The sun continued to beat down on us both, but he didn’t flinch.
After a time, he decided (I suppose) that a different piece of wood would provide a better vantage point and without a sound nor whisper he was gone. But the picture of him? That remains. Petrified in time.
“Whatcha doin?”
I about jumped out of my skin, for, after all, I wasn’t exactly expecting to be spoken to just then. All my attention had been focused on the sunset in front of me, and, well, most of the time Elk don’t really talk much. Turning to the young fellow, though, I explained that I was trying to take a picture of this amazing sunset here at the Grand Canyon.
“Oh.” was all he said in response to that, and he continued to peek over the top of the other Elk who was was simply enjoying the sunset. The sun continued to creep lower and in a moment it would be perfect. But just as I was getting ready to finally get the perfect shot, a loud, and very startling “NOW!” broke the spell. I jumped about a mile, straight up. The camera went flying (but I caught it), and I was left breathless. Glancing at him with a questioning look, he said (gently this time) “now it is perfect.” Indeed it was, and so the moment was captured, the camera put away, and equipment quickly stowed.
And with that, we all watched the sun slip below the horizon in companionable silence.
The sun was just in a cranky mood. It had been a long day, what with the rain and all, and it had spent the entire day trying to fight through the rain clouds. Every time it thought it saw an opening, and tried to provide a bit of warmth and cheer, the rain clouds scuttled back in, thwarting every effort. In the end, it was just one of those days.
At the very end of the day, though, the rain clouds decided to pack it in a bit early (their day had been a darn good one, after all, and they figured they would reward themselves just a bit), leaving the sun just the barest of all opportunities. And it took that… with a vengeance! It was really quite mad at this point and as it slipped below the horizon its full rage could be seen by all. The colors were absolutely amazing and staggering and the rain clouds quickly regretted the decision to block the sun that day.
This image was taken from the top of Sandia Crest in Sandia Mountains in New Mexico. Truly, the entire sunset was beyond compare, and the reds and yellows in it were intense, to say the least. The clouds reflected the dying sun’s light in every direction and for a moment–just a brief moment–this is what it looked like. And before you knew it, the sun slipped fully below the horizon leaving all in darkness.
There. Deep in the hear of nowhere it sat. Just so, at an angle designed to carefully shield the sun. It rested jauntily upon the top of a dune, a splash of color in the other otherwise desolate landscape. Actually, it was the only splash of color there, apart from the white and the blue of the distant mountains.
White Sands National Monument in southern New Mexico is a place like no other. Trackless, endless dunes of white gypsum sand stretch as far as the eye can see, and beyond. The solitude and the silence deep in the dune field is like no other, and the only sounds heard are those that you yourself make… and even then you are just swallowed up by the vastness. It seems that no matter how far you walk, how many dunes you climb, or how many times your feet step forward there is one more dune ahead of you. Perhaps that’s true, but there is, of course, the mountains in the distance to provide contrast.
Being out among the dunes gives you, however, a deep sense of peace and tranquility. Intellectually, you know the dunes do not stretch forever, yet in your heart and soul you know that they must.
For those who crave solitude, this is the place to be. Just don’t forget your umbrella.
The emptiness, when seen from just the right angle, is absolute and complete. The white gypsum sands stretch on for an infinity, never beginning, never ending, always continuing, always stretching, endless emptiness.
And in the middle of this, life always finds a way. Growing in the middle of nowhere and everywhere, the Yucca, alone on its dune, perseveres. It is undaunted by the endless emptiness and continues its race against the sands. Make no mistake about it, either, for it is a race against life. If this Soapstone Yucca cannot grow quick enough or tall enough, the shifting sands of the dune will eventually cover it, overwhelming it and consuming it.
In the White Sands National Monument, this race happens throughout the dune field, with many victors and many losers. Some dunes have a lot of participants on them–others, like this dune, sport just one isolated yucca, which is leading the way, perhaps, for others yet to follow. For now, though, the race for survival continues on this Yucca Dune; the sands continue to stretch on to infinity, the silence complete and the outcome far from certain.
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