Follow the Yellow Dirt Road

I only went out for a walk,
And finally concluded
To stay out until sundown,
For going out I found,
Was really going in.
-John Muir

Lord have mercy. I have seen the light. And the colors. Some say God is in the details. But I say it is in the flowers. So much plant life emanates from it. It brings nourishment and food and medicine and psychedelics and art. It demonstrates the illustrious life-dance between sun, soil and water. It demonstrates in bold displays of It’s amazing to experience what color can do to nourish the soul. Especially when it’s part of the natural world. I don’t know the science of it, but seeing bright, saturated colors enveloped in a lush green background, and a painted blue sea and sky beyond, is one of the more luscious experiences perhaps known to man. And can you imagine in ancient times when the rains would come and release the seeds into a glorious display of flowers, how that must have made people feel?

I have long been a lover of flowers, but it’s usually been the cut variety on a mantle in a man- made bouquet. Still, it’s a reminder of where all colors emanate from, and sweet, fragrant aromas. I have been noticing spring flowers in my 20 years of living in California, but this year has provided daily, near-orgasmic moments. With those long-dormant seeds finally penetrated by the thick rains this winter, we have had an explosion of wildflowers that many have never seen before, including me. And something has stirred deep within my soul. I’ve now made the pilgrimages to Anza Borrego, Joshua Tree, and even the poppy reserves in Antelope Valley, and it has been a fusillade of flowers, a fiesta of fragrance, a visual and olfactory stimulant to the senses, making me feel alive, grateful and besotted with the planet in ways I never felt before. But no place reached me more that our backyard, the coastal range where no less of flurry of floral delights surprised me daily. In many ways it has been juts as riotous as what I’ve seen in the high and low deserts.

On a recent stroll along Bommer Ridge I came across fields of yellow Bush Sunflowers known as Encilia, delicate white and pink morning glories, deep purple Parry’s, bright orange California Dodders, violet School Bells, and white bushes of California Popcorn Flower. But one particular ridge afforded something as spectacular as the desert. In between the Boat and Old Emerald trails, was a gentle southeast facing slope that was ablaze in glory. The biggest field of bright orange California Poppy, dancing with the vertical stalks of bright purple Lupine and bushy white Popcorn flowers. All dancing in the sun, with the emerald green canyons beyond. What a dazzling display of color, in perfect combinations that only nature can arrange. The only sad note was a single Black Mustard that had planted itself. This nonnative invasive, while casting its pretty yellow patina, is actually swallowing up everything in its sight. Still, it’s hard to hate the condiment that has embellished so much delicious deli through the years. The late crooner and color expert Francis Albert Sinatra once noted that orange is the happiest color. In Orange County, I think that honor needs to be bestowed upon yellow. The color of the sun. It contrasts perfectly and enlivens our azure skies and ocean, not to mention our emerald hills.

Enjoy it while you can. For while this display augers the amazing, regenerative power of nature, it is certainly not a resolution of our ecological crisis known as climate change. We will once again soon return to hot, dry land that is burnt brown and brittle. It’s simply a reminder of the earth and its aliveness – as a possibility, as a metaphor, as a lingering, unfinished story. The flowers’ demonstration that a land’s story can change so unexpectedly filled me with awe, reverence and fear.