When Tim and I were dating, he would bring me a single red rose before every date. And while I appreciated the gesture, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I didn’t really like flowers until we had dated for a few months. Nothing against flowers, I mean, they are pretty and all, but they die and then you have DEAD flowers.
But, when you have to HIKE, (yes, I said hike, stop laughing!) like, 50 miles to see flowers (and palm trees), I expect some fairly prodigious flowers. Like incredible, never seen before, immeasurable, monumental flowers.
The other day, nature and I again went head to head. A group of photographers from the [b]school took a little field trip, down convoluted, mountainous roads, stomach dropping dips and well, nothingness to Anza- Borrego. What was to be a 2 mile hike round trip on the easy trail turned into a 5 mile trek one way over mammoth rocks, lizards, bees and dead palm trees to see FLOWERS.
Here’s me near the end of the trip (Thank you, Gregg Shaw for capturing me in my finest hour).
This is never a good sign to see on the onset your trip.
The flowers were pretty, I guess…
Me channeling Ansel Adams:
Me and and creepy, crawly things are not a good mix.
Matthew Saville, risking his life…
My favorite image of the day (of course with sun flare!)
