Deserted Deserts and Running Snakes

Most people always forget about the Arctic, which kind of makes sense. Most of us will never go there. Unless the ice melts and the Arctic becomes a tropical paradise, we’ll sit here and watch films about it. A few people are familiar with the Arctic, of course—you know, the ones we watch and read about. Just never us. The Arctic is strange. They say it’s a desert, but no other desert is like it. It can be hard to wrap your head around because there is nothing but frozen water as far as the eye can see. Thank goodness for it, though. Without it, the definition of a desert would be a place devoid of water. Now, it’s a place with little to no precipitation.

A desert is a barren land with little to no rainfall. To desert is to leave something behind. One could argue that deserts are deserts because the water deserted its post and no longer falls there. Or, if your friends don’t like you, they might desert you in a desert deserted by water.

Everything is different in a world of sand and rocks. Somehow, life can make a home out of even the most difficult places. Look at Sidewinder rattlesnakes. Most creatures would die if they tried to spend most of their time in deep, thick sand. But the Sidewinder found a way. Sand gets hot, a fact that most reptiles can not abide by. Most snakes would cook to death in such an environment. The Sidewinder learned to run. Let that sink in for a moment. They RUN. Yes, even though they have no legs. They bend their bodies just right and hop from section to section. I can hear some readers now, “That hardly counts as running,” they’ll say. Then call it something else. Either way, sidewinder snakes run faster through sand than you ever will unless you can run 19 mph up a dune. If that is the case, then congratulations! There are no snakes in the world fast enough to chase you down!

Deserts are often pictured as hostile and barren environments. Not in my mind, at least, not entirely. Dangerous? Yes. But only to the unprepared. Empty? Certainly not. Even deserts have many stories to share from their ancient libraries. Deserts are not always deserts. They change. Some deserts used to be mountain tops, others rainforests. Some deserts move from place to place, collecting and leaving sand. It’s almost as though they are alive.

I live in a desert. Though technically, that isn’t right. It’s more like I live in several deserts. My home lies at the crossing point between The Great Basin, The Mojave, and the Colorado Plateau deserts. That makes my home three times as interesting as your typical desert. Each area holds its unique variety. Like a giant Venn diagram, some zones are alone while others mix and match. Of course, most maps don’t show this. Maps like solid lines and borders, fictitious depictions of a world in order. But maps don’t always get it right. They often have it wrong. The lines of nature blur together, creating different and beautiful shapes.

Funny enough, dessert often gets misspelled as dessert. The two hardly have anything in common. Being left for dead in a desert is terrible, but being left for dead in a dessert means you’re probably already dead and or you are the dessert. Try to imagine eating a desert. It probably wouldn’t be enjoyable. But suppose you were a worm. Worms need sand to help digest their food, but too much sand will kill them. Sound familiar? Kind of like cake? Or ice cream? You eat a little after your meal, but too much, and it’ll kill you. That means, to a worm, the desert is the dessert.