GAGE GARDENS
Story by Danielle Gallo. Photos by Leah Cohen.
T
he desert landscape is one
of
striking
beauty.
Looking out over the
plains to where the mountains
rise in the distance, it’s easy to
imagine the Big Bend as it once
was, the floor of the vast inland
Permian Sea. Fossilized clam
beds and aquatic plant life scat-
tered on the caliche, and the
ocotillo stirring in the breeze like
anemones, make it seem as
though the water has only drawn
back for a moment and can
return at any time.
For those of us who live here,
the absence of trees and water
can have a strange effect. When
I travel east I sometimes feel
claustrophobic when the walls of
greenery cut my view. Being
accustomed to seeing for miles in
4
Cenizo
Fourth Quarter 2016
any direction, always knowing
which way is north, and the sub-
tle desert palette of browns and
reds and muted greens have
made my eyes focus on the long
distances for many years. When
the horizon is hidden, I feel as
though I’m caught in a maze,
and it sometimes makes me
dizzy.
That being said, there is
something so refreshing about
the few oases of green out here in
the ancient sea. Stepping into
one of the scattered parks in the
Big Bend feels like a cool trickle
of spring water in my soul, a
sense of quietude that runs under
continued on page 25