The freneticism of the world of business must occasionally be bucked. It is easy to be lulled into a pattern of manic pursuit of practical goals. Last week I drove from San Bernardino to Berkeley immediately after a two and a half hour LA traffic slog that followed right on the heels of a weekend in New York, which was preceded by field tests in the Mojave and another big weekend meeting, this one the Desert Tortoise Council Symposium in Las Vegas.
Cruising along California Highway 395 I looked out on a verdant west Mojave landscape, greener than I’ve seen it in a long, long time. Here and there were bright slashes of yellow – acres of tiny goldfields flowers in their millions and bigger Coreopsis daisies. It had rained the day before and the desert was fresh and bursting with life. The calm voice of my inner tortoise counseled a walk while the little taskmaster tapped his watch impatiently and urged me down the highway and on to the next thing.
Taking the advice of the tortoise, I turned off Bakersfield bound Highway 58 and onto a small side road. On those rare occasions when the Mojave is sweet it is sweet indeed. Soon I was strolling barefoot in pillowy soil with the perfume of innumerable flowers filling my head. It was a perfect late morning in early spring, breeze light and the sun warming, not broiling. And soon after that, on my belly, nose a few inches above a golden multitude, I took this photo.
Glad I chose the brake over the accelerator.