The Desert
by Sermsee Kerner
Sight
As we drove around the final bend at the top of the mountain and began to make our way down the other side, it unfolded before our eyes—a canvas of beige sand stretched to infinity in every direction. The desert was split down the middle by the endless highway that shot straight through it like a beam of black tar. As the sun yawned on the horizon, and stretched its fiery rays into the morning air, a palette of rainbow colors filled the sky in mottled patches like a Monet painting.
Taste
I’m dehydrated and parched in the heat of the desert’s kitchen, where the sun plays host with great magnitude. I lick my dried chapped lips and taste the desert potpourri of sage and tumbleweed and salty sweat. The dried brush and wildflowers are seasonings in the desert’s stew.
Smell
Every few miles introduce new aromas as the desert scenery changes. A rain shower sweeps through and humidifies the air leaving a blanket of musky dampness. The farmlands reek of freshly fertilized crops, smelling like old socks and hockey bags. As the sun takes charge again, the smell of rubber tires fighting the hot dusty highway bakes in our noses. But eventually, the natural fragrant perfume of the desert prevails. It’s a Wild West concoction that promises cactus, fat tumbling weeds, dirty hungry coyotes and hot dry wind—a bouquet of open range.
Hearing
At first I can’t hear the desert! It’s drowned out in the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of cars and heavy trucks hurrying down the road trying not to waste a second of busy life. When we stop I get out of the car and listen…Oh, now I hear it! The hum of the highway blurs as the gentle wind whispers across the vast lonely plain. Later, in the early evening hours, I sit on a patio under a star-spangled sky enjoying the live orchestra of the desert night. Bushes bristle with the scuttling of little critters. Coyotes exult over their prey in high-pitched howls and excited quick yaps. A silent shot of lightning accompanies a loud BOOM! —like a cracking whip. The night wind now whirs and whistles in anger—she’s not as gentle as her day wind sister. The night desert sings an eerie lullaby of mystery and danger.
Touch
My lips and hands feel as parched and prickly as a dead cactus. There is no moisture in the desert air. My feet rub against my leather sandals, gritty with sand and dust. The hot mid-day sun would bake me like a cake if I stayed within its reach and the pavement could fry an egg. Hot sweat rolls down my temples as I fan myself with more hot air, but it quickly evaporates. My breathing is shallow. I feel like I’m melting and I call a truce, “You’ve won!” I cry to the desert, “You’ve won!” I breathe because I have to, but with each hot breath, the desert humbles me and reminds me of its authority.
Mood
The desert is a loner in the world of nature. It has quiet strength and holds centuries of secrets. The cracking thunder and lightning shows that dance in the clear night skies are aspects of its personality. On a whim it can sizzle you like butter in a pan or chill you to teeth-chattering stiffness. The unconquerable desert answers to no one. I am but a mere human in awe of its power.
