Great Basin Sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata), Pine Creek Canyon, CA, March 2025

Leaves do the quietest of work. How close does one need to be to hear photosynthesis or the ultrasonic voices of plants? A sagebrush landscape is an ensemble of trillions that communicates in a language we won’t hear but also in a color unique to itself, the many leaves in an expanse of soft green, undulating through washes and up long bajadas without scale. How to describe such a perfect color, a texture like velvet but infinitely softer, tiny hairs an imperceptible fuzz. This makes a subtle pigmentation, not drab but suited to the land and unfurled in a collective palette that invites patience and sensitivity.

A girl, raised in Reno Nevada, dreams of living at the ocean and studying marine life, away from this dry place. Her Father drives them out to a long desert valley with a line of sight that would take days to walk. He tells her that their home, a landscape dear to him, is “a sea of sagebrush”. This creates a connection built on inhabiting a vast space imperfectly known but deeply felt, distance transmuted into intimacy.

As I walk through these brushlands evenly spaced, with room to saunter windingly amongst, I must frequently pause to ask the Artemesia what it will tell me. I clutch a sprig or a few stems drawing my hand across the succulent leaves. Releasing the plant, I bring my cupped hand to my nose and inhale deeply. The fragrance has mintiness. I want to call it dusty, but sweet and so pleasant, evocative, it welcomes me home.

Photo by Tim Giller