I love this place.  This desert.  I grew up here and have wonderful memories of my Dad and I running around out here looking for Indian artifacts, chasing after rabbits and coyotes with my buddy Dave.  To be back here as I start over is very special.

A room with a view

I have a very nice campsite in some big rocks that look over “my” little valley.

This is really where my life long passion / obsession with light really started.  The light here changes so drastically from one moment to the next.  The light that hits these canyon walls can be harsh and soft at the same time.  The clouds dance the shadows across the bluffs and canyons.

I have quickly come to the conclusion that there is no way in hell I am limiting my self to iPhone photos.  I will certainly shoot some, but the big boy has to come out from time to time.

So many people don’t get this place, the desert.  They see the big picture of rocks and sagebrush and sand and dry.  There is so much here, so much life.  But they drive by in their air conditioned maga-bus RV’s at 75 miles per hour and miss it.  I walk in this place every morning and every evening.  Delicate flowers breaking through the harshness, rabbits playing in the morning and birds…so many birds.

I am finding that the light changes so much during the day.  There is a “psychology” to this light and how we feel when we see it.  I think it corresponds with a million years of humans seeing the light.  Mornings are a fresh start.  The light is clean, crisp and cool in it’s color.  We feel that when we wake up and the light helps us along.  In the afternoon, when the day is done, we are tired, but reflective.  Memories not only of the day just lived, but memories of our past.  Warm, hazy, soft light made so by the dust of the day carries with it that reflective, contemplative quality.

Another day.