Wednesday, April 29, 2015


Photos from the Borrego Springs area of the Mojave Desert in Southern California.
It's the annual desert spring bloom and Christa and Richard took to the wilderness for some camping.

              All Photos   ©  Christa Thurber

             The exhilaration of climbing to the plateau made the view more spectacular.
             Hovering clouds hold in the eerie timelessness of the vista.

                          Screaming pink!  Easy to spy along the dusty old hillsides.

                  The rock citadel drew us like a magnet with its domineering royalty.

             This hefty messenger wears a crown of golden flowers on a head of thorns.

             It felt like walking the ocean floor...  a sea of blue-gray, heat and slightly 
             humid air.

                   space in the meadow to spread and grow great-grand children

                                                        finely crafted jewels

                                                             flesh of the rock

                                                    molten silver with pepper


                      Greetings.  Survival is always precarious in fantasyland.

              A red haze covered the valley.  We grew close and recognized a mass of 
              ocotillo in bloom.

                                           starkly demanding attention from the wind

                                    the sun moves slow, quiet into serenity

                         prickly ball finds hard rock comfy... how can this be?

                                          cholla cactus glows, a halo of light

                  a writhing animal captured in a plant, ready to pounce and get you

                           dead and living tangle together in opposite compliment

                 getting to know those small and close to the ground, I lie among them

               exquisite beauty above its sandy gravel bed - too delicate to long survive 

              I know this plant!  For many years it's perched here among the rocks
              at the end of Moonlight Trail.

                  Maybe the shelter of rocks is more important than its lack of soil.

              All those fuzzy seed pods and orange flowers remind me of apricot trees.
              The birds and bees think delicious too.

                  Marble cathedral stairs beckon, humbling me with hands-on climbing.

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Good Morning Justin

Letter to my Son
Sunday, 26 April


Here's the suburb and the magnificent wife coming with it.

Form follows function.

Fantasy seeps surreptitious into our surroundings.


He's on the do not resuscitate list.

"I'm sorry.  Do I know you," it asked.

My favorite color....

It was a perfect Saturday morning.

No one owns me.

It's all her fault.  Just ask me.


© Tom Taylor   All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, April 19, 2015

good morning jacob

letter to my son
sunday, 19 april

       good morning

we are not the same each and every day

what's it about texas that attracts a cadillac ranch

clever fox in a stupor

greetings from venice beach

afterwards finalists will play russian roulette 

unheard of pleasure in a cookie

home from college

flight line

don't go grandma

seventh wonder on the way


© Tom Taylor   All Rights Reserved

Sunday, April 12, 2015

Good Morning Jack

Letter to my Son
Sunday, 12 April

Good Morning Jack…

It’s difficult getting lost in Southern California.  There are too many prominent landmarks.  The ocean is west, the mountains east and the desert has few roads so there is little opportunity to be confused as to which way to go.  Generally, it’s a choice of continuing forward or turn around and go back the way you came.  The simple layout there was a real confidence builder for me.

My navigation skills were useless for North Carolina.  After a number of years here I still confuse east with west.  I blame the trees for blocking my view in every direction. 

Tuesday morning I went out towards Reed’s goldmine from Kannapolis.  It was the last day of cool, overcast weather.  There were signs of light rain the previous night.

We get more rain than Seattle here.  Big deal.  We've got a roof over our head.  The animals outside put up with whatever comes their way.  Any kind of shelter makes matters a bit more tolerable.  An insect finds a hole in some wood and scurries inside to escape the drops and to hide.  Soon another insect finds the same hole and creeps inside.  He is quickly eaten by the first insect.  First come, first serve.

This path leads you to the princess castle where Sleeping Beauty waits for your kiss.

Here’s a portion of the forest being redeveloped.  Termites have been contracted to reverse engineer this ancient tree.

This is the kind of environment where you have all kinds of Whos for Horton to hear..

A tree dies and wills its remains to a slew of upstarts.

A wandering root drinks from a goblet of murk.

Scampering life abounds.  This would be paradise except for the fact your neighbors are trying to eat you.  When you think about it we've evolved from a long line of traumatized species.  It should be of no wonder we are the way we are.  I wonder if we are about to get ahead of ourselves – the power of science outsmarting our wisdom.  For instance, we find compelling advantages to redesigning ourselves genetically.  Enthusiasm abounds and we program out characteristics that made us who we are.  We shed our biological heritage and become something altogether different, by choice.  We each become a tree of knowledge and we rule our own bloodline extinct and we are finally good.


©  Tom Taylor   All Rights Reserved.