I think for some this view would seem desolate. People chuckle when I tell them that the state tree of Nevada is the telephone pole… until they see my pictures. My mother (watching a tumbleweed roll) would say, “You would have to be born here to appreciate this!”
As far as the eye can see there is not a single tree in sight. But what a sight! It’s wide open spaces and quiet places where the Indian Paintbrush and Sage whisper together in breezes that never seem to still their movement.
It’s the landscape that will always be where the sand in my lungs came from – called Nevada, and the desert called Home.