High and Dry
There is something captivating about the desert in the morning. Today it decided to grace me with a beautiful farewell sunrise. It was fitting as I have made a point of greeting it, nearly everyday, for the last 5 years. It was a perfect 74° with a light breeze that delivered a longing for my grandmother’s house in Yucca Valley. The smells and textures of her home in the dry landscape are lingering on the edges the wind, calling me to conjure memories that slip from my vision before I can see them clearly. I can still feel them though. There was freedom, fun, boredom and acceptance at that home. Grandma Ruth had a twinkle in her eye, chain smoked and chewed chicklets gum. She loved gin rummy and kings corners, had a gravely voice and her laugh was a kind of modified / toned down version of Phyllis Dillar’s cackle. I loved it and her. She tanned naked in the desert sun and with her deep, dark tan, her rather wide nose, black hair and somewhat angled features she looked very Native Ameri...