Vernal Equinox / by Tomiko Jones

20 March 2021
Sea of Cortez | Mar de Cortés

Thinking about balance, the coming of light and longer days, the blossom of spring. On a spontaneous turn, instead of heading north to the Ajo Mountains, I head south, seeking the clarity of the water and waves on the shores of the Sea of Cortes. It felt essential. I fold a cyanotype boat for an old friend I recently found out had perished in the desert, sending it on a tiny rivulet flowing to the sea. I fold a boat for the father of a friend, a daughter who adored and cherished her father. I fold a boat for a person I do not know, but is a friend of a friend of mine I will see today, after his memorial. I find humor in the “accidental” photo that reveals a feather at my foot as I balance boat and camera in wind, wave and heat. Along the way, I see a little creature rolling down the road after a car passes the other way. Filled with dread at seeing death, but unable to turn away, I pull over. After some time together under the shade of a scrubby bush hidden from the intense sun, he seems to recover, maybe he was just stunned, and the leg he seemed unable to move, now moves freely as he scampers away from me and hopefully, back home. I make it back to the border right before sunset and fly the drone high above the scar on the land that separates this from that, us from them. The cycle of the season, the day, the tide and the sea, and the coming and ending of the day offers perspective and solace in an existential moment.