Superbloom

The seeds in this photograph waited years for one wet winter. Most springs the Carrizo Plain stays brown, a dry grassland folded between mountain ranges a few hours from Los Angeles. Then the rains line up just right, and millions of hillside daisies erupt at once, a superbloom bright enough to be seen from space.

I stood waist deep in flowers that ran unbroken to the foot of the Temblor Range, its folded hills streaked gold with their own bloom. A single cloud drifted over the ridgeline and seemed to stop there, as if it wanted a longer look. The whole valley hummed, bees working in every direction I could hear.

A field this loud tempts you to photograph everything at once. I framed it simply instead, flowers below, mountains in the middle, one cloud above, so the yellow could do the talking. I wanted the photograph to feel like the moment you step out of the car, when the color reaches you before you can find a single word for it.

This print is for anyone who wants one wall in the house that refuses to have a bad day. The yellows read as pure optimism in a room, and the blue sky keeps them calm rather than loud, bright enough for a kitchen or an office, warm enough for a bedroom. Printed and finished to gallery standard. Whenever your own year runs a little dry, this is the spring that always comes back.