»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
Desert Days
| Passions in Prose |
|
Desert Days |
|
|
hoot_owl_rn Member Patricius
since 1999-07-05
Posts 10750Glen Hope, PA USA 
|
(This is a true short story about missing things never appreciated) Desert Days To an eighteen-year-old, twenty-five hundred miles from home, with places to go and things to do life in the desert can be hell. To an over-pressured thirty-six year old, the slow pace of the desert seems like heaven. Eighteen years ago, I couldn’t appreciate the beauty of the land that surrounded me; now, I long for it. Mill City Nevada consists of a few scattered mobile homes and the Mill City General Store. It is located in the heart of the West Humboldt Range, thirty miles from the nearest town. Nobody stays there long; they work, then move on. I spent eight months of my life there; it is an eight months I will never forget. At the time, Mill City Nevada had a population of twenty-seven, twenty-four of which were Mexicans, fresh from the border, still speaking in their native tongue. With their long, charcoal black hair and curly, black moustaches, they resembled the banditos of western movies. Their breath reeked of whiskey and burritos. Although their looks were frightening, they were always ready to greet people with “Hola,” and a smile that exposed their yellowed teeth stained with tobacco. The Mill City General Store was an oddity in itself. Its dilapidated exterior gave me the impression of a leftover prop from a ghost town movie shoot. The pay phone outside, dusty from the desert sand and often out of order, was the only connection to the rest of the world. Stepping inside the store, I always got the feeling of going back in time. The store had probably not changed much since Wild Bill rode the range. The smell of tobacco and spices was overpowering. The canned goods, with their yellowed labels, had over-extended their shelf life by about ten years. They lined the splintery ledges along with a quarter of an inch of dust. Not a booming business, the store was kept open by the elderly couple who owned it simply because they had nothing better to do. Anyone who has spent time in the desert will agree time doesn’t move slowly, but rather, “time is not.” For me, things were no different. I spent much of my spare time walking. My favorite place to walk was the nearby hot springs. During the mile and a half journey, the barrenness of the desert surrounded me. The sand, bleached white by the sun, was interrupted in spots by patches of sagebrush. The strong, bitter smell of sage filled my nostrils. The quietness of the desert was broken only by the sounds of my footsteps in the sand. Often, I would spook a jackrabbit from its hiding place in the sand. With its long ears raised, it would scurry for cover, a flash of gray in a world of white. The shack, that someone had erected with mismatched scraps of old wood around the hot springs, could not even hint to the pleasures that lay within. The strong smell of sulfur enticed me. Inside, I would take off my clothes revealing the bathing suit that I had worn underneath. I would step into the steaming waters, letting them cover me with their relaxing warmth. When I had my fill of basking in the soothing waters, I would hurriedly dress and begin the long walk back. Dusk was my favorite time in the desert. I would watch the magnificent sunsets that turned the blue skies to orange and red. The flatness of the land gave the impression that the sun set on the earth itself. I found the cool breeze that blew across the sand to be a welcome relief to the one hundred and five-degree temperatures of the day. Nightfall came quickly, and in no time the temperature would drop to fifty degrees or below. I would sleep with my window open enjoying the quiet and coolness of the desert night. The occasional howl of a coyote the only thing disturbing my sleep. My age, ambition, and restlessness at that time prevented me from fully appreciating the golden sunsets, slow pace, and rich beauty of the desert; I regret this. Now, eightteen years and twenty-five hundred miles away, I long for the place I left behind and every sunset I see takes me back to those desert days. ------------------ "Nobody has measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold" ~Zelda Fitzgerald |
||
| © Copyright 1999 Ruth Kephart - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
DreamEvil Member Elite
since 1999-06-22
Posts 2396 |
Another good one, with a message I find absolutely true. ------------------ Shall I indulge in flights of fancy hampered by clipped wings? DreamEvil© |
||
|
Poet deVine
Administrator
Member Seraphic
since 1999-05-26
Posts 22612Hurricane Alley |
I also live in a desert with a slower pace. I like that - suits my temperament. This was a wonderful story, loved reading it! |
||
|
Ron
Administrator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-05-19
Posts 8669Michigan, US |
I spent over two decades in Southern California, amidst more people per square mile than many countries can claim. I've spent the past two years living in an area of Michigan so rural the birds often can't find it. At certain times of the day, particularly dusk when the long shadows of trees older than our Constitution paint patterns on the dirt roads, I really appreciate the quiet and the beauty. Most of the time I just wish there was a good restaurant nearby... Guess I'm just not old enough, yet, to appreciate it? Wonderful story! |
||
|
hoot_owl_rn Member Patricius
since 1999-07-05
Posts 10750Glen Hope, PA USA |
Thank you all for your comments. Ron, I am 36, but really could use the peace and quite in my life right now that that place afforded. Ruth |
||
|
leelew Member
since 1999-07-10
Posts 89highmount,ny,usa |
I like it.I wish I too could go back to the time of peace,and endless sunsets. |
||
|
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Well Ruth, by now you are 37, so I thought you would like to see this come back up to the top! Good read, set off some ideas in my head for a story, which I will work on soon, just to see if I can entice you back in to prose. Hugs... Karilea If I whisper, will you listen?... I would rather be silent and write, then speak loudly and be bound. KRJ |
||
|
hoot_owl_rn Member Patricius
since 1999-07-05
Posts 10750Glen Hope, PA USA |
Sunshine...soon to be 38 (Jan 4th) and I've been thinking of finding my way back in here...time is of shortage lately though. Thanks for the comments. Hugs  Ruth |
||
|
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Whatever is there to THINK about...just get your almost-to-be-38-yr-old-bod back in here! You baby you! Karilea If I whisper, will you listen?... I would rather be silent and write, then speak loudly and be bound. KRJ |
||
|
hoot_owl_rn Member Patricius
since 1999-07-05
Posts 10750Glen Hope, PA USA |
Time dear friend, time...too little of it and really not up to writing much as of late. Perhaps when things on the health front settle a bit |
||
|
JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Nice writing...seems to me that you did appreciate your time spent there...but absence has made the heart grow fonder...nonetheless, it is always nice to have fond memories...albeit some may have been shorter than we would like...James |
||
|
hoot_owl_rn Member Patricius
since 1999-07-05
Posts 10750Glen Hope, PA USA |
James, What a day to revisit the past a bit. Thank you for bringing this long buried post to the top again Ruth |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
