We begin (actually just me) at Hite Crossing of the Colorado River in Glen Canyon. The muddy river, naturally, upstream from Lake Powell. Brown cliffs on both sides, blue sky above. Whoops, don’t forget the thin strip of green riparian (streamside) vegetation that has leafed out. It’s spring.
Enough of this shameless gawking at the river and the cliffs and the snow capped mountains in the distance. Let’s roll on down the road. But not far, before the golden glowing plumes of Prince’s Plume caused me to veer to the side of the road.
Next was the Yellow Cryptanth. Really small yellow flowers with fuzzy cups and stems, they don’t like to hog the limelight.
I love it when I can get two different wildflowers in the same photo. Especially when they’re different colors, too. The green of their leaves can count as a third color. If you’re counting such things.
If you’re only attracted to the big, showy blossoms of the season, shame on you. The true naturalist is drawn in by the more subtle ones, too. Like Blackbrush, with its diminutive yellow flowers.
Let’s veer on over to the white side of the flower spectrum in Glen Canyon: Cliffrose. Its blossoms are fairly showy. Not bright white, a rather yellowish white. But the fragrance will make you remember.
In case you’ve forgotten, this is all in the desert.
Speaking of which, we come to one of the most desert like plants, the yucca. With its evergreen bayonet leaves and a needle like tip that will make you remember not to carelessly stumble into it next time, they also have one of the most amazing flowering habit. Namely a stalk that grows as quickly as corn in Ohio (don’t ask for scientific proof, I don’t have it) to sent creamy white blossoms as delicate as their “leaves” are formidable.
Maybe it was time for a break from all the lushness. I stopped near the Highway 95 bridge over the Dirty Devil River and walked out onto the span. Which you can do easily here, since there is almost no traffic.
South of Hite I once again paused along the highway. I do that a lot. And why not? In this case it was a relatively short span across an unmarked canyon. You would drive across it in couple seconds — whump, whump — without noticing.
You would have just crossed White Canyon, just upstream from its mouth into the Colorado River. No big deal. Right? But pull over. Walk to the edge, or onto the span and look down. Yeah, totally different realization.
I made a few exposures onto the camera memory card that I’d hoped portrayed the overall scene. The desert varnish streaked cliffs, the red buttes in the distance.
Then I let my camera lens follow my gaze to the floor of the canyon. It was an overcast day, devoid of the strong sunlight and black shadows so typical of canyon country. The cliffs above were the beige of Cedar Mesa Sandstone, ancient “petrified” (not the right term, but nevertheless) sand dunes lifted up from sea level eons ago. And at the bottom the (temporarily) dry streambed that somehow had carved its way down. Still does, in fact. Since erosion never sleeps.
Photo Location: Glen Canyon National Recreation Area, southeast Utah.
© Copyright 2016 Stephen J. Krieg