Welcome back to my blog. I have started a new project. It's called "Things I Found In The Desert". There are so many things one can find lurking in the desert, and behind each unique object there is a story. So here is the plan. I am going to write a short (or sometimes long) story about what my imagination tells me the history and story of the object is. In this case, it was an old light bulb I found on the desert floor. There was nothing around it and it was intact, unbroken, a survivor. Quite a story. If you are interested in hearing the story of this light bulb as I see it, leave a comment with your e-mail address. If not, just enjoy the photos. This is the first of my collection. Later I will include a link to all the photos as the collections grows.
-----OK, here is the story added on March 8, 2007
I walked through the desert with a slow stroll, enjoying the hint of a breeze that helped sweep away the afternoon heat. I often scan the desert floor finding little parts and pieces of what was. On this day I spotted an old light bulb. It was empty of filament and and the usual interior technology of its kind. It was old and faded. It was lying defiantly amongst tangled lifeless weeds and the sun bleached gravel of the desert floor. It was an enigma. I stopped. I looked and I took a photo.
It lies there, alone in the desert. It is fragile, like life. It is transparent, like most of us. It has survived, like we who are still here to read this. It no longer shines in the darkness as it once did, yet it endures. It is intact. It is stubborn and refuses to collapse beneath the harsh elements that surround it. It has a history. Could it talk, it might tell us a story of its life. It would certainly tell us a story of other lives that it touched. As I looked at it I felt its energy and its history.
It was probably once part of the life of a hard working desert family. It hung in a solitary fashion, by a single wire with no wall switch or high-tech wiring. It stood alone, a bare bulb in a lone socket, it’s only source to its lifeblood electric current was the twist of a human hand in its housing. It worked well and sent the darkness fleeing when called upon. When its usefulness was done, it was cast away like an old steelworker set off to wither away on a meager pension. Though lost, alone and abandoned it still fights on, unable to shine but refusing to give in. May God bless the old light bulbs of this world.
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