Observations (in the raw)
Spring winds have come to the desert. Strong gusts push and pull at everything, including one's attention. It's as if they herald change itself. The desert is "greening". Looking across the expanse, there is a subtle green replacing the winter yellows and browns. Drop to your knees, for a closer look, and the stunted grasses are definitely turning; while no-name weeds pop everywhere. Of course, the green is short-lived. By June, the heat and lack of moisture will have pushed everything into a yellow dormancy again, to wait and hope for the late summer monsoons.
So, perhaps it is the combination of wind and changing color, but I find myself longing for change, as well. The words, "road trip" suddenly sound exciting and I'm paying more attention to sunrises than sunsets. Is it the call of the East, or more specifically, the South and home? Perhaps, Spring awakens the "green" of my childhood.
Pat Greenwell is an artist. A painter and sometimes poet, he has been searching the New Mexico desert for a couple of years now, looking for lost possibilities and probable intentions.
"...mostly stream-of-consciousness stuff, you know...