Showing posts with label Placerita Canyon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Placerita Canyon. Show all posts

Thursday, June 19, 2014

LONELY POPPIES





Vibrant growth in the Mojave Desert, humans roam the landscape

In pairs, in families, on tours, taking pictures

Selfies abound

I travel alone

Always




An eagle flew low and fast

Intent 

Did he see me?

My mind saluted anyway



History stretches off into the shadowed mountains

The poppies ephemeral

They will return

The Poppy Promise



What secrets herein lay

A birth, a death, a rape

Even the bedbugs have fled



Golden fingerlings grip the hill

Hungry for life

They'll die soon


My birding class visited Placerita Canyon which is near the Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve.

I was happy to be there.



All photos, except the eagle, are © Sandra Ramos O'Briant

Sunday, May 04, 2014

Birding the Macabre


Birding is both more and less than spotting and identifying wild birds. For me, it's being outdoors and looking up. Being properly equipped is also important: binoculars, a zoom lens on one's hopefully light camera, water, sunscreen and plenty of tissue if you have allergies. Without the proper binoculars and appropriate camera, it was difficult to see anything. Placerita Canyon could have been a bust if it weren't for the other essential ingredient for me: Imagination.

Do you see the wolf-like image in the hollow? 


This was the image on my ascent. Below you'll see this image upon my descent.



See the bird in the tree? 
Neither did I, but then I looked down and saw the 

Dragon

Even though its flame was petrified, I jumped back and almost stepped on an angry

Gila Monster


A steamy wind rushed up the canyon and raptors circled above waving treetops. At the next turn, I encountered a new creature.

Monkey Lizard


He seemed harmless enough and I had to laugh at my fantasies. No wooden fatalities here, or were there?

Petrified Human


My Catholic childhood rushed at me. Jesus H. Christ! I almost made the sign of the cross. Fortunately, I ran into this religious fellow who operated an X-rated confessional when I was twelve.

The Monsignor Burns in Hell


Here is the ghoulish stump once again, but the monster inside has changed. Can you see the difference?