There is a ghost town in the desert. When they put the freeway through it didn't reach to this town so it died when the oil ran out. We take the back roads often through the desert and we know this ghost town well.
Near this town there is a field of daises. It had taken me by surprise - we were driving along and all of a sudden we were surrounded by a field of white. I had never seen it in bloom like that so I asked JR to pull over and I hopped out into the field of daises. They were tough little buggers, those desert flowers. I had to pinch them hard with my fingernails to pull them up.
We kept going and found a place to pull over and camp in the BLM land, right against the mesas, in a flat spot against the tumbled rocks. In the morning it was cold and a little overcast, and the wind was incredible. I woke up early before everyone else got up and walked a ways down the road, meditating on the last day of my 27th year.
Its always hard for me to give up another year for some reason and I get a little melancholy around new years and birthdays. I'm not afraid of aging by any means, but I wonder a lot if I did a good enough job with the year that I'd been given. The desert is a good place to let those thoughts settle.