In the desert, solitude is the terra firmam which holds all else in its grasp. Even the wind which crosses this way owes sovereignty to the silence that surrounds it once it is gone. Each grain, each barren shrub knows no intimate neighbor but keeps counsel and distance surrounded by space. At Borrego once, I left the nature trail and came upon a damp stream bed. Up canyon I followed it to where a miniature brook burst from the rocks and briefly cascaded between indigo bush and black sa ge before vanishing into the sand again. . . alone.