Cactii

The desert and the mountains are the landscape of my mind, an obsession quietly pulling at me all the time. The raw beauty, the thrill of geological time opening before me, the sense of being lost in the world that owns every last atom of my body: all weak attempts to plot out the simple wonder I've felt on the rare occasion I've had to visit these places. So I read Abbey, gaze at photos, and scheme to get back. Ever since that first western trip with my father, when I saw the Rockies crest over the horizon after looking up from my dog-eared copy of Jurassic Park, since driving through the badlands of South Dakota, since the blinding flatness in northern Utah, the West has been stuck to the inside of my skull like wallpaper.

More of these great New Mexico postcards at my wife's flickr stream, here.