Bloom Where You’re Planted
“Real travel requires a maximum of unscheduled wandering, for there is no other way of discovering surprises and marvels, which, as I see it, is the only good reason for not staying at home.” - Alan Watts
Featured photos: https://photos.app.goo.gl/qrKZrZqDyjvjKpVD6
April 13th, 2023 - California Day 6
It was a wandering sort of day. We woke up in a little blue Airbnb in Lone Pine, California. During our sunset walk the night before, we’d spotted a few interesting sights to check out. A film museum was one of them. Though it’s a 3-hour drive from Hollywood, Lone Pine is known for its prolific presence in quite a few movies. Located in a skinny valley between the Sierra Nevadas and the Inyo Mountains, Lone Pine has a little bit of everything for scenery. Rounded desert boulders make the perfect ridges for cowboys to hide. Jagged, snowy mountains are excellent for an adventure scene. Any way you turn, there’s something beautiful to see.
In the film museum, we walked among props and movie posters. In one area, a revolting, monstrous worm erupted from the floor, a puppet used in the iconic Tremors film. In another corner, a Roman toga was encased in a glass box. The costume was worn by Russell Crowe in Gladiator, a film I’d convinced Tyler to watch with me just a few months earlier. And of course, John Wayne’s presence was everywhere in the museum. The iconic cowboy had spent much time in the little town, it seemed. I wondered what it might be like for the famous actors to have worked here. Did they eat dinner at the same restaurant we did? Did they watch a spectacular sunset over the snowy mountains?
We had a lot of ground to cover that day, so we spent several hours driving after we finished at the museum. The Red Rock Canyon state park ended up being a perfect area to stretch our legs. It’s a Utah-ish landscape, with red tiger-striped cliffs rising straight and tall out of sand. Despite an incredible wind buffeting our car, we decided on a short hike. Bits of sand exfoliated our bare legs and arms as we climbed. It was a harsh landscape, but a miraculous one too. Like a fairy quilt, thousands of wildflowers clung to the hills. They climbed in gradients, first green, then purple, then yellows. Despite the wind pounding at us, I crouched in the dirt to marvel at their hardiness. There they stood, all resilience in yellow and pink. They were fantastic.
I’ve read inspirational quotes that encourage “Bloom where you’re planted.” I never understood that, really. If I find myself planted in a hard time, I tend to grumble. We often deceive ourselves with the idea that we have a right to complain, as if difficulty warrants a bad attitude. Here, though, were plants surviving against all odds. The soil was poor, the sun was harsh, and the wind was nightmarish. Still they bloomed happily. If plants can thrive in a difficult place, surely can’t I?
Our wildflower miracles were far from over. Later in the afternoon, we found ourselves near the Antelope Valley poppy reserve. Under a sky piled with dark storm clouds, we stopped to wander a massive meadow brimming with life. Rich orange poppies accompanied purple lupines, yellow daises, and pink clover-like blooms. A meadowlark’s song danced through the humid breeze. As far as the eye could see, colors stretched out like an earthbound rainbow. We had read news articles about the poppy superbloom that was forecasted in California, but nothing could have prepared us for the vastness of it. It was awe-inspiring! I found myself sitting in the field, settling down into the blooms as if they were a church pew. The meadowlark’s song was a hymn, and the flowers were the words, a testament to an unseen composer.
The miracle of the poppies was their abundance, caused by an unprecedented amount of precipitation last winter. Some places in California had seen more than 200% of their usual snowfall! It was disastrous, completely shutting down parks such as Yosemite, King’s Canyon, and Sequoia National Parks. Tyler and I had originally planned to visit those parks, in fact. We’d found ourselves growing bitter about the destruction, frustrated that we couldn’t see the legendary waterfalls and the massive trees. But here we were, standing in a field of poppies that wouldn’t have bloomed if the snow hadn’t fallen first. From disaster comes beauty.
Just like a canyon formed out of the destruction of a flood, hardships reshape the fabric of our lives. This isn’t a bad thing. It’s just a force of nature. While we’re in that flood, we can trust that there will be good that comes eventually. And while we’re in a hard time, why can’t we do our best to bloom during it? Just like the wildflowers in a windy desert, there is always strength enough to blossom.
Bloom where you’re planted.
Beauty comes from disaster.
The lessons of wildflowers.
Hiking trails:
Red Rock Cliffs Nature Trail
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