Brittlebush – On the road with Jim

Desert Vigil: Creosote and Brittlebush Against Valley of Fire’s Red Backdrop Picture of the Week - Valley of Fire State Park, Nevada

Creosote and Brittlebush dotting the red desert landscape of Valley of Fire State Park under a clear blue sky — Desert Vigil: Creosote and Brittlebush Against Valley of Fire’s Red Backdrop – An array of creosote bushes and brittlebushes spread across the red sandy floor of Nevada’s Valley of Fire State Park, standing resilient under the vast blue sky.

Welcome back to the grand finale of our Valley of Fire State Park extravaganza. This week, we’re taking a stroll through the park’s living tapestry, where life’s tenacity is as clear as the desert sky. If you’re like us, you’ll never see any of the animals on the brochures, except maybe a big-eyed rabid chipmunk with its hand out begging, “M&Ms for my baby.” Usually, the daytime has too much traffic and noise for wild animals, so if you’re hunting for a game, grab a campsite or come early and stay late.

Valley of Fire, renowned for its blazing sandstone formations, is also a sanctuary for various desert flora and fauna. Amidst the rugged terrain, the creosote bush reigns supreme; its waxy leaves a testament to its survival prowess in the harsh climate. Accompanying it is the brittlebush, its silver-gray foliage contrasting starkly with the red sand beneath. These two species flourish in the Nevada desert; they show off with yellow flowers in spring.

Wildlife enthusiasts might try to glimpse the desert bighorn sheep, masters of rocky terrains and cliffs. They usually hang out on ridgelines and cliff faces but come down for water in the mornings and at day’s end. The park is also home to the clever kit fox, the industrious black-tailed jackrabbit, and the elusive coyote, each playing their part in the desert’s symphony.

Photographic Pursuits Amongst the Desert Blooms

As a photographer, capturing the essence of this diverse ecosystem is both a challenge and a delight. The dance of light and shadow across the landscape breathes life into each image, from the delicate interplay of creosote branches to the fleeting moments of a bighorn sheep in motion if you’re ready with your long lens.

The park’s biodiversity extends beyond the reach of my lens, inviting visitors to look closer and discover the beauty in the details—the pattern of a lizard’s skin, the flight of a raven, or the vibrant hues of wildflowers that defy the desert’s aridity.

Red sandstone rock formation known as Red Turret amid desert shrubs in Valley of Fire State Park — Sentry of the Desert: The Red Turret’s Silent Watch in Valley of Fire – Amidst the sea of creosote and brittlebush, the Red Turret rises as a natural monument within Valley of Fire, echoing eons of geological artistry.

Beyond the Jackpot: Valley of Fire’s Call

So, next time you find yourself in Nevada, yearning to escape the neon lights, remember that just a stone’s throw from the buzz of Vegas lies a world abounding with natural wonders. Valley of Fire State Park offers a chance to reconnect with nature and experience Nevada’s quieter yet equally thrilling side.

Pack your hiking boots, bring your sense of wonder, and don’t forget your camera. The park’s trails await, ready to reveal the secrets of the desert. It’s an experience that promises to be as rewarding as any jackpot—perhaps even more so.

I have uploaded a larger version of this week’s featured image. You can see them on my website using this link < Jim’s Web> and on my Fine Art America Page by clicking here <FAA Page>. I hope you enjoy seeing them.

Next week, we begin a new project, and this time, it’s not a place but an event that motivated me to grab my camera and get out of the house.
Until our next adventure, may your curiosity be as endless as the desert skies and your spirit as resilient as the flora and fauna that grace this fiery valley.

Keep exploring, keep laughing.
jw

Techniques: Capturing the Desert’s Essence

This week, let’s discuss capturing the subtle textures of the desert. I focused on the interplay of textures and colors when photographing the resilient creosote and brittlebush against the sandstone backdrop. The key is to find the right angle where the light enriches the colors without overpowering the delicate details of the plants.

In post-processing, I often use selective adjustments to enhance the flora’s vibrancy without losing the terrain’s natural ruggedness. If you get carried away with the adjustment sliders, you can overwhelm the subtle plant colors with too much contrast and saturation. It’s a delicate balance that, when struck, transforms a photograph into a window into the soul of the desert.

Cholla and Brittlebush Picture of the Week

Cholla and Brittlebush

It’s the end of April, and last week we went from, “let’s open up the windows and let some warmth in,” to “Oh my Gawd—turn on the air conditioner.” I don’t recall a year when the temperature gained thirty degrees in a week. I’m not ready for summer; I haven’t even put my sweaters away.

Spring began with an excellent opening act here in southern Yavapai County. In case you didn’t get out, a colorful ribbon of wildflowers lined the roads for weeks. They’re now drying in the heat and will soon turn to the thick golden straw that catches fire if you look at it cross-eyed. As happens every year, the public service announcements are already predicting 2020 to be the worst fire season ever.

Even with the temperatures over 100, spring isn’t over. The second act is about to begin. That’s when the palo verde trees take center stage and sprout bright yellow blossoms. Beneath their canopy, creosote bushes put out dark green leaves punctuated with tiny dots of yellow flowers. While they’re full, they look like a proper shrubbery that any gardener would be proud to have in their garden. But don’t go planting one in your back yard. I’m sarcastic; they’re a weed.

I’m glad that we snuck out for an afternoon and got some desert colors for you—like this week’s featured photo. On the hike that I described in last week’s post, I dawdled along the way back to the truck and shot some flowers near the path. The best of the bunch was this one that I call Cholla and Brittlebush. I find that both of these subjects are hard to capture. Mature cholla is pretty when the light is behind the needles, but as they grow, the stalks are bare and unattractive. Brittlebush flowers grow like a dome covering the plant, but the yellow washes out in bright sunlight.

Cholla and Brittlebush - A young cholla and brittlebush growing under a palo verde tree near Wickenburg, Arizona. — Cholla and Brittlebush – A young cholla and brittlebush growing under a palo verde tree near Wickenburg, Arizona.

None of that happens in this week’s image. I found them growing under a palo verde tree. The cholla is a young plant, so it hasn’t had time to drop its lower branches. The backlight shows off the sharp needles, and the cactus shades the flowers. The flowers at the bottom are more rooted in color, while the sunlight washes out those at the top. There’s even a gap where the olive-colored brittlebush leaves show. The photo may not be a still life worthy of Irving Penn, but I think it explains why April is the best time to experience the Sonoran Desert.

You can see a larger version of Cholla and Brittlebush on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you enjoy it. Next week, I’ll begin a new chapter on our back road travel adventures. I’m keeping our destination a secret so the authorities won’t stop us when we sneak out under cover of darkness. Come back next week to see what we found—if we successfully evade the quarantine police.

Until next time — jw

Lava Tube and Brittlebush Picture of the Week

Everywhere I look, the desert is yellow, and it’s as thick as a jungle out there. When Queen Anne and I run into town, the train tracks—only a block from the road—are hidden behind the dense foliage. I supposed this was predictable with the good rains we had this winter. We had a good crop of poppies this month along with purple lupine and orange mallow lining the highways.

Several plants give to the yellow with the first to bloom is the Brittlebush. Their soft yellow flowers look like small pale yellow daisies on stems rising from sage-green leaves. Unlike the poppies, their color isn’t vibrant, but they’re so pervasive that they’ll turn mountainsides yellow. They thrive in disturbed soil, like the highway shoulders.

Creosote bush adds a second note of yellow. The lowly creosote is like the lawn of the desert, except it grows 4-6 feet high. A couple of weeks ago, the field across from the park was Kelly green. The bush’s flower is small—almost like buds, and now that they’ve popped, the green has a golden tint.

The yellow crescendo comes when the Palo Verde bloom. Last week, Her Majesty and I ran down to our dentist at the border, and along the way, the trees were already blooming in the low-lands. The bloom moves through the desert like an opening curtain into the highlands. Today I see the trees in our park are beginning to show the tiny flowers. At their peak, the Palo Verde dot the mountainsides with yellow splotches. It’s then you realize that they’re growing everywhere. There’s a color symphony, and quail provide the background music with calls as they stake out their territory. It’s the best time to live in the Sonoran Desert.

When Fred and I were out taking photos in Black Canyon a couple of weeks ago, I saw lots of brittlebush growing in the lava rock cracks. Their soft yellow popped against the dark, almost black canyon walls. Since they screamed, “Spring,” I wanted to capture the contrast. Out of the several shots that I took, I liked this week’s image best.

In the shot that I call Lava Tube and Brittlebush, three plants were growing below a gaping void in the rocks. I believe it’s a tunnel that formed when the molten magma lost pressure then receded. It’s just like when you were little, and your older brother tortured you by pinning you to the floor then drooled over your face but sucked the spit back at the last moment. The threat was always worse than the spit. Oh! By the way, on your first desert visit, inevitably someone will tell you, “Don’t sick your hand into any place you can’t see.” The lava tube is an excellent example of what they mean. I tried to get Fred to see if he could find any rattlers in there, but he refused. He was no fun at all.

Oh, if you’re wondering how brittlebush got the name, here’s an example of how they look after a couple of weeks without water.

You can see a larger version of Lava Tube and Brittle Bush on its Web Page by clicking here. I hope you enjoy viewing this week’s post and next week; we’ll show another featured image from a different Arizona site.

Until next time — jw

Rain; Sweet Rain

We’re saved! I complained in an earlier post about the onslaught of a premature summer. Well, a low pressure front came through a couple of days ago and brought strong winds, thunder storms, some rain, and cooler weather. I had to break out the sweaters again.

It looks as if we will be back to normal for the foreseeable future. Next week’s forecasts show pleasant days broken by intermittent rain days. That means a continued wildflower season.

Lichen and Brittlebush — Blooming brittlebush before a lichen covered outcrop near Wickenburg, Arizona.

The brittlebush is in full bloom now and the cactus is just beginning to blossom. I recommend that you grab your camera and head to the nearest road out-of-town to capture the color while it’s here. March and April are when the Sonoran Desert is the prettiest, but this is an exceptional year. Don’t miss it.

Till then . . . jw