White Sands

A lot of time has passed, with me on the road for much of it. I’m in New Mexico now, happy as a clam. A. buys lottery tickets, hoping to win the big one so that we can throw up our jobs and move out here. My only hesitation would be my darlings, firmly planted for now on the East Coast. But if we win the lottery we all could fly a lot.

One of our trips was down to White Sands National Monument, in the southern part of the state. Much of WS belongs to the military, but a chunk of it was made into a park. The Trinity site is not here–it is in a different section and is closed to the public except for twice a year to keep a lid on the protesters. I would like to see it some time–I heard that the sand was turned to glass.

WS is gypsum sand, and the gypsum comes from a Lake nearby that has A’s family name, to his delight. The lake has huge gypsum crystals that break down and migrate in dunes. Unlike the dunes at the shore, these dunes are powerful. You can walk, and sled, on them. They are in constant motion, in geological terms, so they cover up your footsteps and just keep on truckin.

Our first day we arrived at 4:30 PM and found a solitary ranger who was waiting to give a sunset talk. We were the only people there, so we got a private tour. She had been an English major like me so we grocked. She showed up how plants adapt and survive on the dunes. Where the dune isn’t moving as fast, plants take root. They are ultimately doomed, though, so they have different reactions. Some, as they are gradually buried, just throw off a ton of seeds before going glugggg. One kind, the soap yucca I think she called it, just keeps stretching up higher and higher. Little plants you see on the dune may go down many feet below the surface. Even they are ultimately doomed, but a third option is for a bunch of plants who happen to be growing together to sort of hang on to each other. This creates a pedestal, and the clump of plants ends up sitting on this pedestal as the dune moves on by.

The next morning we went back. Most of the park was closed because the roads were too wet (the gysum sucks water up from a water table close to the surface, and in addition there had been snow). We parked and walked in, wandering up and down and over dunes, passing little marshy spots at their bases, wandering across stark white dunes that were moving too fast for any plant life to take hold. The sky was bright cloudless blue. It was stark and lovely, a world of forms and shapes.