On The Trailz
The wind blows and the sand shifts. But the desert remains the same. The thorns and barbs still survive against the summer sun. There in the brier and shadow live the creatures that abount in the desolate landsape. The trail behind leads me ever forward along the trodden path. Only to perceive dreams of my wandering adventures. To behold the view at the edge of the desert. This was mine to survey in silence. It left an image that was burnt into my heart. In my soul the desert remains. The desrt was mine that day and it was the door to my back yard. This was a place for me, a place where I belong.

Seek that one road that leads to a place of pristine beauty. I would be miles out along a lonely road, to reach a crest whose view was breathtaking, and for a memory that could last a lifetime. One could only have that memory if they were there, at that time, day, or year. With just the right light, or the right breeze, to capture the moment when the sun sets or rises.

As long as time spans we will seek out the explore. To ride the trail, to go nowhere and everywhere. To step out and map our impressions of the world around us. As nature is a part of the desert. I am part of the same. I can not be parted from it, to be banished from it I would lose myself. The sand is in my blood, and the wind is my song. I long to be there baking my heart in the desert sun. My soul captures the landscape, in my dreams forever, on the trail.

Take a journey, be brave step out and find where the trail may lead. Learn what it is to be miles away from civilization, at peace. Don't close the door to all you may learn, but open it wide for all to come.

Dezart Dogz



The Spirit Of Ocotilloz
The birds were singing loudly the praises of summer. I sat quietly in the warm early morning air pondering on all that awaits me for the summer. I've heard it all! People say, "How hot is it? What do you do out here? Who would want to live here?" I thought of all the questions. That thought brings me back to the Ocotilloz. Where am I at, and what keeps me here?

True it's HOT! I can't deny that. But it's only as hot as you think you make it. At first I blink once or twice, but then it's the warmth of love that I feel, as God sets his place before us. I feel the sand and all the ages that have walked upon it. I am glad I'm here. "How hot is it?" Hot as an oven and bright as the sun. It's all in the way you view it.

I do the same things everyone else in the world does. I wake, I work, I play, I sleep. "What do you do?" I go shopping like everyone else. I go to the movies. I like to watch the children grow. "What do you do?" I just watch my view of the world in open fields of cactus and sand. People would think you live under a rock and just come out to lay in the sun once in a while. Well, I guess I'm a lizard too. Rocks are fine.

I've lived here twenty years. Why you ask, because it is the dezart. The place where the wind never stops and the sun never sets. I believe there is something greater in this world than what we can see or call a place. Something that binds us together. A place of hope and peace. A place like the desert where the sun shines brightly, the cactus is abundant, and there's miles of sand and no beach.

This is the true spirit of the dezart. It is all that leads you here and keeps you. It is that something, that is greater than we are. This is the legacy God gave to us. To live life and take it all in, all it's warmth.

Dezart Ruinz
Dezart Pine Treez
We are all grateful for the rain but! I've had enough! I would like to go out and smell the flowers. There's the warm breeze of summer headed our way. I'd like to catch the rainbow while it is still here. This is the time to put all things aside. The problems that bind us, the troubles that lead us, and the differences that offend us. Putting all things away to be washed by the spring run-off.

Starting off fresh, like the fragrant sense of a clear new day. There is a blue sky that is brighter than light. A cloud that is more pure than silver. As far as we can see the green carpet spreads the rainbow around us. I look and see all the possibilities if we could break the spell of avarice. I'd dance for joy to the song of birds, and the color of the rainbow.

True! The rain brings good things. The joy that quenches the thirst of truth. The knowledge that we are all on the same pile of sand. We to could be washed away by the sands of time. I would rather spend my hopes on the future. Planting the seeds of faith, that all things are possible. We are but children of the rainbow, the many flavors we are. I would rather be chasing the rainbow on a rainy day, chasing the bluz away.


Under the single oak she sat. The old woman clad in leather and simple beads. All was still, but for the sound of the stone tapping. Meticulously grinding the stone into the circular curves of the boulder. There she would prpare the meal for the day.

The old man was wise and had many feathers. Weathered by time the lines on his face showed the reminder of many trails traveled. As he dipped his fingers into the pigment, he wrote his story on the wall of the rock. The images of life that would last through the ages.

The sun was low in the sky. It's rays lit the rock etching across the story like a finger being told. But I couldn't understand the words, only felt it's meaning. I looked facing the past standing in the present. This was the story that had to be told.

The centuries of people all standing in the same spot I am,in another time. I have seen just a glimpse of who they are. Truly they are ancestors of man, the Native Americans. As I find myself standing on the same road, I would call myself as a modern day native of the dezart. Such challenges of the past are not ours but all the same, we have our trials.

Though we have conveniences the longing for understanding sets us to seek out the bond between man and earth. That endeavor may just be a path to peace and harmony. That infinite part of ourselves which gives us the spirit of man and the love for the land. The need to have nature about us is real. It is part of us that can't be taken away.

So from time to time I would set my tent up, roast my food and sleep among the stars. I would dream of writings in the sand and find a way along the road for my waking hours, to remember. The old woman, the old man, and the stone. I would write it on the pages of a history waiting to happen. My story.

Last updated 07/20/02