Plant PR



In visiting King Clone the other day, a few things came to mind.

First, since it's no longer the oldest living thing on the planet, Americans don't really care much about it. It used to be number one, back before some discoveries in the past few years, but it's now dropped to third or possibly fourth, with the result that most people may think of it as an oddity more than anything worth seeing.

Still, it's out there, and not too far from my desert home.

Plants have a tough time of it, and not just those trying to eke out an existence in the high desert where there's very little rain and they're forced to live in sand composed of deconstructed granite.

Worse, other than vegans, vegetarians, and some foodies and gardeners, no one cares very much about the half of life that isn't animals. Even the best of plants aren't anywhere near as cute as a kitty and, to be frank, they don't exactly do very much. Oh, sure, some of them are pretty, but other than suffering the ravages of neglect and dying inside the home, if they can't be eaten or used as building supplies or fuel, we pretty much leave them alone.

In the case of King Clone, it (or he), is very much left alone, which is probably a good thing.

It may be over an 11,000 year old plant, but being located on the outskirts of an Off Road Vehicle area didn't bode well for its seeing its 12,000 birthday. So, someone put a wire fence around the area it's living in, which is about the only thing that sets it apart from everywhere else in the desert.

It used to be said of Microsoft that their policy against computer viruses and whatnot was keeping all their software secret. Whoever is interested in, or maybe even responsible for, keeping King Clone around, is taking a page from that book. I'm not sure there were ever going to be crowds of people flocking to look at an old plant, but there are certainly no lines of visitors, no souvenir booths, nothing in the way of guides or even signs. It's there, and if you want to look at it, you've got to find it.

Which, maybe I did.

Being unmarked has the advantage of keeping away the merely curious, which is probably a good thing in this land of rugged individualists. It's unlikely that anyone would just shoot it for the hell of it, but I wouldn't put it past those who haven't yet learned to put up with being told what to do or whose desires are solely driven by what they want, might just want to kick it, pluck at it, run over it, or otherwise destroy or injure it just for the hell of it. People are like that.

Since I'm guessing most people don't even know it's there, it's very much left alone.

The only indication I found of its location was placed by what I can only imagine are hippies since they made a tiny cairn on the roadside and a small arrow of rocks pointing under the fence. I hoped a similar cairn would exist inside, indicating King Clone's location, but I didn't see any.

What I did see was, of course, thousands of those creosote bushes, some in rings. Whether or not I saw King Clone is up for debate, but even with knowing that it was it, I'm confident I saw it since my eye past over pretty much everything in the area.

If it's still out there, I must have seen it.

(This website – http://www.lucernevalley.net/creosote/photo_tour.htm – does a better job than I could ever hope to do) The signs he saw, I didn't.

A Concerned Citizen



The desert is changing me, or at least my behavior. Then again, it could be age.

This part of the world has a lot of rugged individualists, but in at least one sense I'm finding that I'm becoming the exact opposite. I've never been a fan of torture or cruelty, not that most people are, but I'm getting further and further away from acting in my own self-interest or justifying my actions because something is easier for me or simply because I want it.

To be specific, I'm talking about plants and animals.

To get an idea of what I mean, check out this Google satellite image of my immediate neighborhood – http://goo.gl/QVNzU

After being appalled by the ugliness and boring sameness of the desert, look again, maybe zooming in a notch or two and looking around the area. It's not as obvious from ground level, but it didn't take me very long at all living here to see that within just about every property's fenced in area, there's hardly any vegetation (mine included).

And, I've decided that hardly any of this clearing was done on purpose.

Years ago, when I had my first Jeep, I used to love driving around in the mountains and desert, climbing hills, tearing up the land, and working all four wheels for all they were worth. It was fun.

I'd heard some of the concerns, even back then, about off-road driving and riders ruining the fragile ecosystem, but the only part of that that I paid any attention to was driving only in authorized areas. I've always, usually, been pretty much a wuss when it comes to breaking the law.

In the past few weeks, however, after getting both of my gates to work, I've noticed a change in my attitude. In the mornings I usually stroll around my enclosed area, picking up trash, seeing if anything's been damaged or any of my outside possessions have moved, and just checking around to see which of the holes in the ground are active. Also, it must be said, basking in the knowledge that it's mine.

I also check for animal tracks to see if any coyotes or anything has been messing around, and for longer than it should have, puzzling over circular tracks that surrounded some of the plants (I even took some pictures of them, which would make this blog visually appealing, but you don't get to see them yet because they're still locked in the camera). After going outside on one of our particularly windy days, I saw a lower branch on one plant scraping the ground and figured them out.

See, the wind blows, moves the plant, and when it hits the ground it moves some of the sand and small rocks aside, leaving a mark. Since the plant is rooted and can't move much, the branch acts like a compass when the wind moves it about.

In my investigations, I've seen just about all the plants that live on my property. There are probably only, at most, a half-dozen different varieties, but a few of those have examples of them in different stages of growth. Some I've come to recognize as fully grown, others as their earliest arrival on the planet, just past a sprouting seed.

Yeah, I take the time to do that sort of thing when I should be doing something else, something worthwhile and productive.

Even though I've only been here a couple months now, and haven't even lived through one summer, it's pretty obvious to me that everyone who's called the desert a “harsh environment” knows what they're talking about. It's not too much of a stretch to say that what lives here ekes out an existence, and I'd be dead in no time without the nearby town and grocery stores.

For better or worse, it's given me a deep appreciation for what lives here and a sense of respect for all those things. They were here, obviously, before me and have managed to grow, reproduce, and survive for tens or hundreds or thousands of years. I think it's fair to say that something that's figured out how to live here over the past few hundred thousands of years deserves a little respect.

Even bugs. Even stupid little, ugly plants.

When I first drove the Jeep from my house to the front gate, I drove around the large plants if for no other reason than “why mess with them?” By the second trip, I was avoiding driving anywhere that wasn't just sand. Part of that may have been because I saw the tiny shrubs as “mine” and not to be messed with, but a large and growing element of that decision came from a “live and let live” philosophy.

Yes, I'm a member of this planet's dominant species and can pretty much do whatever I want, but there's rarely any reason for me to do so. If they're not actively engaged in trying to kill me or ruin my stuff at the moment, why not just let them live? It's what I'd want them to do.

So, instead of flexing my muscles, doing what I want, and showing these struggling plants who's in charge here, I drive and walk around them. Yep, it only takes a couple seconds to kill them off, but it also only takes a couple seconds to go out of my way and let them live to see another day.

I'm sure that hardly anyone living up here clears the land around their houses. The satellite photos show what the land looks like when we leave it alone, and also how our walking around, driving around, and just generally mucking about strips away the plants. I'm convinced it isn't intentional, just something that happens over the days, weeks, and months of tromping about, carrying things or just moving around.

And, unlike the rest of the world, things just don't grow back the next season. What's learned to live here has, I think, learned to do so slowly. Although we're supposed to get a millimeter or two of rain today, there really isn't enough here for anything to sprout up a foot a day. Or even an inch. The plants up here, hardy as they are, know how to shepherd their time and resources, and it sounds silly, but I've come to respect them for that.

Relatively Powerless


You can get a lot done without electricity, especially if you're me.

Normally when the power goes out I get upset, feel lost, and sooner or later get bored and unhappy. If it happens during the night I can amuse myself for a short time finding and lighting candles, lanterns, or flashlights and setting them up only to discover that no matter how well they're placed, they won't help me watch TV or play with my computer.

This time, however, it was different. Not only had Southern California Edison warned me that I'd be without power, but they'd given me an estimated time it would come back on. That's extraordinarily helpful.

It went out about fifteen minutes after they'd said it would and, for a moment, I thought maybe the scheduled outage was postponed again. But, true to their word, after I'd unplugged everything I cared about that wasn't a major appliance, my little clock radio turned off. Unplugging all my personal electronics, by the way, isn't as difficult here as it would be in any other place I've lived since I only have about three outlets that I use (but, through the miracle of extension cords and multiple outlet adapters, closer to ten things plugged in).

For the record, I wish this place had more outlets. Many more. And, that the few there are were more conveniently located. There are seven, total, inside my home but two of those (for some reason) are in the bathroom where I only have one thing to plug in. The living part of the house has one on the kitchen counter and another behind the refrigerator, rendering it useless.

The “cabin” part of the house has one on the south facing wall, the one with the two windows and it's supplying all my computer stuff and, on occasion, a space heater. The western wall has one behind my beautiful, but massive, armoire that is used for for both satellite dishes and my TV and another that's behind a large bookshelf and is effectively useless. At the foot of the bed there's one I use for my clock radio, and that's it.

So, in short, the one I can get to is overloaded and the rest are pretty much useless.

But that's not the point.

After discovering that the camp stove I bought when I moved here and wasn't sure if I'd have any electricity at all actually isn't a camp stove and doesn't work. So, instead of coffee, I quickly pulled an emergency energy drink from the refrigerator and set it outside in the sun to warm up to “downright chilly.” I considered building a fire to make the coffee, but didn't want to risk burning the handle of my Bialetti coffee maker, without which I'd sob uncontrollably.

Driving into town to see about getting the weatherstripping on the Jeep fixed was a bust with the auto glass place seemingly out of business and its nearby body repair place temporarily missing the one guy who could answer my question. Maybe, when I drive to another, larger town, I can find an open and working auto glass business and get it done there.

After stopping at another store or two with Minardi patiently waiting in the Jeep, I stopped off at my realtor's office to give her my tardy thanks for setting me up in the place. She, her husband, and I chatted because here in the desert no one ever is too busy to talk, and I was pleased to see that someone else shared my belief that the obsession with UFOs in Landers can be chalked up to people not realizing that the adjacent Marine base does quite a bit of artillery practice.

She had electricity at her office, but my next stop, much closer to home, at my water provider didn't. I'd gone there to see if they could tell me where my water box / meter / shut off was, and next week they'll give me a call or send someone out to point it out.

I hoped to get some coffee, stopped at a gas station who was also without power, and got a large cup of cold coffee for a buck.

With a few hours to kill before I could expect the power to come back on, I sat outside and sharpened a few knives, moved some of the crap outside around, and took care of some chores. About three o'clock, when the power was scheduled to come back on, I sighed and moved the stuff near the armoire so I could pull it out and retrieve the Internet satellite power cord that had fallen behind it when I carelessly unplugged it earlier in the day. When I re-arranged everything to put it back and put some things away, I was delighted to see that I'd managed to acquire a few square feet of empty floor space.

Now, normally, I don't think I'd even notice getting a couple square feet extra room, but in a home this small, it's tremendous. Yes, if I did a better job (read: any at all) of putting things away, I could conceivably reclaim two to three times that amount, but I was amazed at how much progress I could make with such little effort.

I'll get used to it quickly, but just uncovering a foot or two of floor space makes a huge difference when your place has so few to begin with.

A few minutes after the scheduled time, the power came back on and my cheery, relatively spacious, little home was filled with beeping clocks on all the appliances demanding attention.

Then, I got everything plugged back in, got it all working again, and here I am.

Re-Powerless


The power's supposed to be shut off again today, and this time I think they mean it.

Last time this was planned I got all ready for nothing, only to discover a postcard when I returned from heading down to town to find a postcard telling me the planned outage had been postponed to today. Whether I got that postcard the day before or that day, I can't say for sure. The thing is, try as I might, I've yet to figure out when my mail is delivered.

But this time around, I've even gotten a telephone call from my electricity provider, Southern California Edison, so I think they mean it. Actually, I got two, but one of them was another of those missed calls that I ignored. I tend to do that if I get a call from some 800-type number, the ones I just figure come from someone trying to scam me into something.

The good news, for me, is I'm not a family, not even if you include my dog, Minardi, in the counting. It's not hard for me to unplug the things that might suffer if the power spikes or keeps coming on and going off throughout the day and live without them because I won't have to listen to anyone complaining about not being able to watch TV or play with the computer. Better yet, I think, I won't be worrying very much about the refrigerator because I don't expect to be opening it until the power's back on for good.

Well, not more than once or twice, anyway.

I don't like to use the refrigerator very much any more, anyway, not since I screwed up its doors. By being careful and using a shim, in this case a large Sharpie, I can keep the doors sealed, and even though I've worked out a pretty efficient way of not wasting electricity by letting the doors leak, it's still a pain.

One thing I remind myself about is how much easier it is to live alone with no one nagging me about the refrigerator door, no one opening it a million times when there's no power, no one repeatedly asking me when the power's coming back on so they can heat up some trash in the microwave to eat. As much as I miss having someone close to share things with, this is the life I have and in some ways it's much easier.

But that's not the point.

For a couple more hours the electrons will flow and I plan to make the most of it. I don't know yet if I'll head into town and see about getting the Jeep's weatherstripping fixed or not. Minardi, of course, would like that, or at least the ride, but I'm a little unsure how well he'd handle hanging around for a couple hours while they did the work. He's a little too old to enjoy walking around for a long time, so maybe the best that can be done is to go to a car place and make an appointment to have the work done tomorrow or whenever.

And maybe that's just what I'll do, then come back here and pretend to put things away, clean up the place, and maybe even get something or other off that to-do list I keep ignoring (unless it's to add something).

2013 New Years Resolutions


I suppose it's that time of year again, when I need to make up some promises for myself. Since this is the first new year in my new home, the process will be either easier or harder, depending on if I decide to focus on bettering myself like in years past or just take the easy way out and make resolutions about my new environment.

This year I resolve to drive on every street in Landers that shows up on any map I have and/or every one in my zip code.

This year I resolve to stay away from each and every nationally advertised corporate eating place in Yucca Valley and try the food in four of the local places.

If the whole money thing works out, I resolve to build a carport / garage thing for the Jeep.

I resolve to learn the names of all the plants on my property.

If the skies are clear, I resolve to watch the International Space Station fly over my home this evening (http://iss.astroviewer.net/observation.php).

Although I have no idea how to do it or much in the way of hopes for success, I'd like to learn how to be less influenced by what I guess other people think of me. It's downright counter-productive and silly to worry about that all the time, especially since those other people don't even think about me all that much.