If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have bought that lifetime membership in the California Native Plant Society back when I was 27.
Chris Clarke
The Elmer Tree was hard hit this week. An ancient Joshua tree near the Desert Queen mine named for a Joshua Tree National Monument ranger who used to r…
Chris Clarke
It’s the longest night of the year, ten days before the end of the calendar, and therefore the temptation here is to write one of those retrospective p…
Chris Clarke
“Foster her for two weeks,” she said. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “She doesn’t even bark,” she said. My friend Taura had been after me a couple weeks ea…
Chris Clarke
Observations on the bipartisan enthusiasm for destroying the desert
Chris Clarke
This time with fewer typos
Chris Clarke
This weekend I left the desert. I spent time watching things go up in flames. Some of the flames were literal. My homeland is on fire. Tens of thousand…
Chris Clarke
I am walking through the Hexie Mountains, a small range composed mainly of metamorphic rock in Joshua Tree National Park. The Hexies are perhaps a coup…
Chris Clarke
One of the most nuanced honors one can receive in this business of writing about the desert is to be compared to the late Edward Abbey, author of Deser…
Chris Clarke
Yesterday I sat, exhausted after a fast hike, at a little spot in the desert I will just call 34.111142, -116.255970, because that is where it was. For…
Chris Clarke
It is the end, perhaps, of my tenth summer in the desert. Daytime temperatures have dipped as far as the high seventies, and the nights are even colder…
Chris Clarke
I remember when I used to watch the mountains to the west. I would count the minutes as their shadow crept eastward along the valley floor. Nighthawks …
Chris Clarke