In the Scodies there’s really just surf rock and saltbush and sunrise after sunrise.
Sagebrush and ground squirrels and soup and slop and mush.
In the Scodies, the Mojave and the Sierras collide like two bull moose engaged in a mating rights ritual.
The Joshua trees all gather here to take a final stand against the pines, a battle they know will be lost but that must be fought.
The Joshua is the sentry of the Sierras, the watchman of the West, the guardian of the gray sky and the gray earth and the gray gorgeous heart of the desert and in the Scodies it wages a mighty war before passing the torch to the juniper and pinyon pine and gray pine.
In the Scodies, Nelly’s Nipple stands erect and looming over the battle below. A stream runs through Sage Canyon where the grasses and willows and cottonwoods have front row seats to the event.
In the Scodies the mountains burn orange and red every night, and when the wind’s not ripping you apart you can see every star in the sky and more.
And that’s that.
