Tree Name: Marty
Artist: Maat Valkyr © 2019
Local Temperature: Average summer temp 104°F
Soil Moisture: 0.012m3/m3
Tree Height: 7 meters, Tree Branch Number: 45
Moth Number: Average of less than one moth per tree
Amount of Seeds per Pod: 215
Elevation: 1049 meters
Scavenger Hunt Directions: From cap rock parking lot head toward the Joshua tree entrance 0.2 miles little parking area on the left. From sign “apostle of the cacti” head west 45 steps.
Marty (38 years old)
Located at Twentynine Palms, CA
So what to say about me. I’m sort of introverted I guess. I have friends and they’re always like “heyyyy” and they’re nice but it always seems like something’s missing when we hang out, like they don’t really get me. I guess I’m sort of different. When I was little, I dreamed I saw a man in the distance. I looked up to ask my mother what was wrong with him. “Elephantiasis,” she said. When I woke the next morning I remembered this word and asked again, “what is elephantiasis, mom?” Years later, I found myself in the same scene. As I looked up to my mother, I remembered, and heard the word elephantiasis again.
That really stuck with me. I also dreamed my own death once. Maybe that’s why I stay apart from the others.
The earth is round, the scientific process works
There is no black or white. Every position is also its inverse.
Ignorance is the root of all ill.
Ill is the root of all ignorance.
Root is the ignorance of all ill.
Ill is ignorance of all roots.
The only certainty is of change, the certainty of systems, changing.
We can see the future.
I have always secretly fantasized about someone reading my diary and finally understanding me completely.
Featured writer Lindsey Scherloum
One letter to tree “Two”
Hope we can meet next time I’m in town. You seem to have picked an ideal spot–not too crowded but plenty of friends nearby. When I’m there, I’d like to hear about your life. Perhaps you could tell me what you thought the first time you felt snow, share all your jackrabbit and coyote gossip, and describe your favorite late-night thunderstorm. I could share my own peripatetic life experiences–we could talk about crowded cities filled with mopeds that ignore traffic lights, sandy beaches where the light-blue water feels better than a warm bath, and rainy, chilly summer days with temperatures that barely rise above 50 degrees. And, after our stories, maybe we could rest and silently watch the sun fade over the horizon.