The 100-Year Bloom

When I first arrived in the Mojave Desert, it was late September 2004 and it was HOT. And DRY. The landscape looked like I had moved to Mars. The wind blew at hurricane-force, but felt like a hairdryer.

By November, the hot wind had turned cold. Really cold. It snowed before Thanksgiving that year. Then it started raining every day for the rest of the winter. I didn't know it at the time, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime event. I just bitched about being cold and wet.

Unbeknownst to me, this record-breaking rainfall was setting the stage for the most amazing Spring in living memory for the Mojave. The landscape, normally scrub-brush clinging to rocks and dust, turned green! As it was happening, I though it was normal: doesn't everywhere turn green in the Spring? No. To make a long story short: I saw vast valleys that appeared yellow because of tiny tiny flowers at the top of the little plants that came out of nowhere. I saw flocks of butterflies swimming through the air in an oddly organized cyclonic pattern. All through this I assumed that it was the wonder of a normal Spring in the desert.

Towards the end, my Aunt Janiel emailed me to ask about the desert flowers. It seems she had seen a news article about how plants were blooming in Death Valley (right next-door to me). Some of these plants only bloom about once every 100 years, and this was the rare occasion. I had enjoyed the event without even knowing how lucky I was to see it. At least I got this picture:




Now I know better. After 3 years, I realise that the Mojave won't bloom like that again anytime soon. It has only rained once (or twice?) this year, but only for a few minutes. Nothing like the floods of early '05. This is officially a drought. The tree in my front yard, which only exists because of a constant sprinkler-system, dropped all it's leaves in mid-June. I guess the sprinkler couldn't counteract the dry 118' air. It's possible that this tree, which took 30 years of special treatment to grow here, won't make it through the Winter. How can it, if it misses a whole year of photosynthesis?

Forget about the drought: the desert-life out here always bounces back. At least I got to see the biggest bounce of the century.