The House on the Hill (11)

I drove to 29 Palms to get the lay of the land, to see what lies between us. There are odd little homestead places for sale there and throughout the valleys between mine and theirs. I am intrigued, off into dreaming a bit. I wanted to know what the land looked like, what the towns felt like, get an overview, a map in my body. I didn't see much of a town in 29 Palms, but I have to say I like the name of it. (My number is 29.) I drove up into their southern hills (my northern range, I am guessing), criss-crossed through neighborhoods. The view is striking because it goes on forever, hills and desert as far as you can see to the north and east.

I was struck by a house on a corner, wanted it immediately. It wasn't for sale but didn't need to be for dreaming. (I am a romantic.) I could see myself living there, planting palos verdes and bougainvillea, building a little patio for my misters, soaking up the view. I stopped to photograph her. The air was hot and dry; no breeze stirred the few bushes planted on that street. The silence was extraordinary. I caught the street signs; the house was on the corner of Twilight and North Star. Talk about romantic. My eyes were pulled back to the north and the east again and again. I can't remember being able to see so far. The view entices travel, begs you to explore the unimaginable distance, to find the edge of the earth. And the quiet feeds a craving deep within.

I could imagine living there with that view and that silence. I would have to plant trees, though, make my garden lush. I needed more than the oleander someone had planted by the porch. Still, I was reluctant to leave "my" corner, but I could imagine someone inside the house wondering what this odd woman thought she was doing in their (almost) front yard. So I headed downhill, saw a cluster of trees in the distance, crossed the highway to find out what they signaled. It was a big green park, so surprising. But the best part were the grackles hopping about, making their marvelous grackle noises. If I lived on the corner of North Star and Twilight, it would be a straight shot, a few blocks downhill to the park. I would come to luxuriate in green and shade. I would visit the grackles.

[Editor's note: I got a small sense of the other towns along the way, too--Joshua Tree, Yucca Valley, Morongo Valley--but I didn't stop to explore them. I'll leave my initial findings about them for another day when I return to get a real feeling for these places. I plan to let them still count as "new" things.]