Fields of Gold

For the summer solstice, I thought it appropriate to revisit a dreamy Californian day trip my sister and I took in April. Taking advantage of the mild spring weather, we drove about an hour out to Antelope Valley, through winding mountain paths and past flat, rural fields.

Our destination? The Antelope Valley Poppy Reserve, where our state flower was in super bloom. We’d missed the height of the bloom, but it was lovely walking through the hills and seeing the subtle colors revealed with each wind-ripple through the grasses and wildflowers. Poppy orange, of course, but also shades of green and silvery-whites, ashy-purples, the cheerful yellows of tickseed and goldfields.


We hadn’t been since we were children, but I remember it had been so windy, my ears hurt. It was very windy this time, too, but seeing the golden poppies was worth it. (But I would highly recommend bringing a jacket, sunglasses, and maybe a bandanna or scarf to cover your face. Also, hang on to your hats.)



A gray winter, wet and fresh with
the wound of leaving, clung
damp to my shoulders.

I needed to shed it like old skin,
to awaken from cold slumber.

The snakes wrote the way into the hills
in the warm dirt, in the secret tongue of
the Mother murmured in the wind.


I planted my heart in the long grasses,
soft against my bare calves,

watered it with joy and sorrow.
Let it steep in sunlight.

The earth returned to me
fields of gold.

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(Music) Stay Away | Rooney

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Color Memory

I’m going to revisit my recent trip to Arizona for this Flashback Friday. My family and I headed into the painted desert in mid-February. One of our destinations was the natural wonder that is Antelope Canyon, named for the herds of pronghorn antelope that used to roam the area long ago. It’s a slot canyon located in northern Arizona on the northwestern corner of the Navajo Nation, just 5 miles from the Utah border.

Antelope Canyon, or Hasdestwazi  (“spiral rock arches”) in the Navajo language, is famous for its gorgeous sandstone walls carved by rainwater and flash floods, which take on a spectrum of colors depending on the time of day. It is likely impossible to take a bad picture while you’re inside it. Just the kind of thing to inspire a little wander-verse.

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Desert Skies

Flashback Friday to this Twitter poem inspired by driving through the Mojave on the way home from Las Vegas.

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Heat is color coded sultry red gold
But I burn like desert skies,
fire-hearted, blue
feverish for you.