Surface of the Moon

I have been spending some time in the charming town of Northampton, MA, working on a film project with the lovely mixed-media artist, Sarah Ahearn.  The last time I visited, she took me on a tour of the Smith College Greenhouses.  She must have known my weakness for rare and unusual plants.  It's something about their shapes and colors- but I find them entirely mesmerizing, and I can't stop trying to capture their natural beauty on film.

The greenhouses were expansive, with section dedicated to orchids, tropical plants, local fauna, and, my personal favorite, cacti.

Growing up, my family used to visit our friends in Arizona every year, and I remember being captivated by the desert.  It was so very different from Michigan, where I grew up, that as a child, I remember thinking that we could very well be visiting the surface of the moon.  I still remember the feeling of the sun setting, illuminating the haunting silhouettes of the Saguaro cacti.  The heat from the day would simply vanish, replaced by the cool night air, and the wind would fill with the cries of the coyote.

Once, we took a road trip through New Mexico, and across the deserts of Arizona, exploring everything from goofy old Western tourist towns to the incredible Petrified Forest National Park.  All I remember about the visit to the Petrified Forest was reading the letters from people who had stolen pieces of petrified wood, only to be haunted by bad luck and catastrophe.  They eventually mailed back the stolen piece and wrote these letters explaining all the awful things that happened in their life due to their theft.  I remember being absolutely scared out of my mind that a small piece might stick to my shoe, and bad luck would haunt me for the rest of time.

Anyway- where was I?  Oh yes, the desert.  I haven't been back in at least a decade, but I know when my boys get to be road-tripping age, one of our destinations will most definitely be a trip to the 'surface of the moon.'  I can't wait to experience the world through their eyes, and relive my sense of childhood wonder.