Faded petroglyphs and grinding mortars left in stone recall the earlier residents who with gratitude shared the abundance of the oasis. Some patriarchal palms with charred and blackened bark remember lightening and the blazing heat of the ancient summer fire. Despite the devastation they stood their ground and in the spring with thanks rejoiced in new green fronds. Graceful and grateful, these stately survivors, in joyful majesty, challenge tne heart to likewise live the words, It is gratefulness which makes the soul great. The Desert King smiles down from his cobalt dome above the desert floor.
Early rays play reveille on granite rose and gold giving life to lizards' legs.
The morning warmth gives hints of high noon heat. Outstretched arms of the Joshua Trees, armored sharp and pointed, hold up burnished torches of white and golden flowers. Though all alike in leaf and stalky stem, each shape is formed by twists and turns. In broad formation they march across the rock-rimmed valleys ever ready to welcome or defend. Massive stones, piled high and rounded, clown to appreciating audiences, balancing boulders upon their heads.