Guy Tal | Photographer, Author

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A small grassy meadow presided over by ancient cottonwood trees, in a remote desert canyon.

Autumn colors are visible in the trees and in the skunk bushes.

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Old cottonwood trees show their age not only in impressive size, but also in the depth and complexity of the grooves in their bark. These twins (they likely are genetically identical and sharing one root system) preside over a beautiful grassy patch in a remote canyon. This image was made on the tenth autumn I have camped by these trees. And what a decade it was.

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I had known this cottonwood for well over a decade. When we first “met”, it was about half its size in this photograph. At the time of this writing, it still thrives in its unusual setting, in a deep pothole in the sandstone.

This sandstone was a dune in the largest sand desert to ever exist on Earth, in the Jurassic period. The cross-bedded lines in the sandstone register the pattern of winds that blew the sand onto this dune about two hundred million years ago. By comparison, human beings existed on Earth for only 200,000-300,000 years.

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Green rabbitbrush under a dormant cottonwood not yet awake for spring.

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Sliver of winter sunlight catches the branches of a cottonwood tree usually hiding in the shade of a steep canyon wall.

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Glowing grasses and rabbitbrush bushes in front of cottonwood lit by reflected red glow from a canyon wall.

I have camped by this tree countless times over the years. I came to think of it as guardian and a friend.

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Cottonwoods had a very good year in 2018, in stark contrast to other deciduous trees, where the effects of climate change have been more readily visible (at times devastatingly so).

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Solitary cottonwood tree in autumn coat in an other-worldly landscape of desert badlands.

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Not all that glitters is gold, thankfully. Cottonwood in autumn display against a backdrop of blue clay slopes.

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A small grove of cottonwood and oak trees in a deep canyon, in autumn display.

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Cottonwood trees in a meadow filled with willows, growing along a desert river.

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Desert brush and cottonwood tree in autumn display, set against a striped and varnished sandstone cliff.

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Bare cottonwood tree against the backdrop of a green mountain slope, in early spring.

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Young cottonwood sapling in autumn color, growing among reeds. Most young cottonwoods in the deep canyons end up swept away by flash floods (although they may take root in a new spot, if they happen to land in a fortuitous place). This one looks to be a couple of years old, so likely has found a good place to set root, and may some day become a giant.

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A large cottonwood spreads its limbs over a growth of willows and rabbitbrush.

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Cottonwood tree in autumn foliage growing by the side of a small desert creek. I like the gesture implied in the curve; it reminded me of a graceful dancer.

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Cottonwood tree in sandstone crevice.

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A solitary walk along a tree-lined canyon path on a quiet winter afternoon.

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Backlit cottonwood leaves, hanging from elegant thin branches.

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New spring foliage on cottonwood tree glows when lit from behind as the late sun is low in the sky, illuminating just the top of the tree, but not the deep wash it grows in. The red leaves are dry remnants still clinging to the tree after last year’s autumn season.

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Flaring sun rays piercing through cottonwood tree on an autumn afternoon.

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Winter is when we retreat into our thoughts and heated shelters. Those rooted to the landscape persevere in their own way, and like all things left to their own devices for long enough, their stasis is perfected and elegant.

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Dormant cottonwood trees engulfed in wintry fog, looking like they are swaying to music only they can hear.

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Old cottonwood tree in a canyon, frosted in new snow.

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Cottonwood tree growing in a deep pothole in a large sandstone dome. A monsoon thunderstorm approaches.

This image was made years ago, when this tree was still alive (it is no longer), and few people knew of its location. Today, this area has been “developed,” with a graveled parking area, restroom, and “no-camping” signs. At the time, I used to enjoy camping nearby, sometimes for a week or more without seeing any other people. I liked scrambling to the top of this sandstone dome in the afternoon to watch the warm light fading over the desert as evening fell.

I’m a firm believer that turning such places into tourist attractions is as damaging and exploitative as any other industrial use. The place still looks somewhat the same, but it feels nothing like it did when it was wild, remote, and little-visited. That place I knew, no longer exists. Over the years I returned to visit this tree many times. I stopped visiting when it finally died a few years ago, although I drive by the area every now and then, always remembering fondly what it used to be like.

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Cottonwood trees in autumn coats growing along a desert river at the base of colorful mineral-rich bentonite clay.

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Cottonwood tree begins to turn into its autumn colors, growing against a the curved wall of a deep canyon.

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Like decorative ornaments, the golden leaves of a cottonwood tree in autumn color, brighten the canyon.

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A thick growth of cottonwood trees, willows, and desert brush.

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Small buds on cottonwood trees signals the arrival of spring.

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New spring foliage on a tall cottonwood tree. A strong wind was blowing, which is evident on close examination of the canopy.

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Winter sun above a cottonwood tree engulfed in fog.

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Cottonwood tree in peak autumn color, in the warm glow of light reflecting off steep red canyon walls.

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Dormant trees and desert brush offer subtle hues in every color of the rainbow.

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A row of cottonwood trees, bare for the winter season, against a backdrop of sandstone cliffs. I made this photograph from one of the local roads in my home town.

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Cottonwood trees still bare just before the eruption of spring. The last of the winter's snow still visible in the background.

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Fallen cottonwood rests on a thin and textured sheet of ice in the shaded edge of a desert creek. Red cliffs lit by the morning sun reflect a golden glow, and the ice will be gone in the coming hours as sunlight reaches this small patch.

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Fallen cottonwood leaves resting on wet silt at the bottom of a canyon after a recent flood. The next flood will wash them away for good.

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Fallen autumn cottonwood leaves resting on fresh mud sculpted by a flash flood the previous day. Within a couple of days, this mud will dry and crack.

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A slender cottonwood tree engulfed in the red glow of autumn sunlight reflecting off the red rock walls.

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Solitary cottonwood tree growing by a remote desert creek.

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A tall cottonwood tree sheltered in a deep canyon, in autumn color.

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Standing bare in late winter, a cottonwood tree awaits the coming of spring in the shade of a sandstone cliff.

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Still dormant at the end of a long winter, a cottonwood tree flanked by colorful willows and birches is covered in a light dusting of snow.

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Covered in tiny new buds, this cottonwood is about to unfurl its new leaves as winter comes to an end.

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Dormant cottonwood and birch trees by a desert creek in winter.

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Dormant cottonwood persevere winter among willows and rabbitbrush bushes.

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Cottonwood tree covered in fresh snow.

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A Sonnet for Everett Ruess / By Edward Abbey

You walked into the radiance of death
through passageways of stillness, stone and light,
gold coin of cottonwoods, the spangled shade,
cascading song of canyon wren, the flight
of scarlet dragonflies at pools, the stain
of water on a curve of sand, the art
of roots that crack the monolith of time.

You know the crazy lust to probe the heart
of that which has no heart we could know,
toward the source, deep in the core, the maze,
the secret center where no bounds hold.

Hunter, brother, companion of our days:
that blessing you hunted, hunted too;
what you were seeking, is what found you.

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I backpacked into this remote desert canyon one autumn, and stayed there for a couple of days camped next to a small desert creek. The cottonwood trees were beginning to turn. I found that the absence of humans was most pronounced in the silent twilight hours. These are times generally witnessed only by those prepared to stay the night. The only sound noticeable was the soft gurgling of the small trickle of water among the rocks.

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Cottonwood tree in ghoulish autumn display.

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Cottonwood in glorious autumn coat strikes a ballet pose in a canyon spotlight.

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Cottonwood tree in autumn foliage reflecting in a canyon pool. The setting reminded me of these words by Edward Abbey:

"Strolling on, it seems to me that the strangeness and wonder of existence are emphasized here, in the desert, by the comparative sparsity of the flora and fauna: life not crowded upon life as in other places but scattered abroad in spareness and simplicity, with a generous gift of space for each herb and bush and tree, each stem of grass, so that the living organism stands out bold and brave and vivid against the lifeless sand and barren rock. The extreme clarity of the desert light is equaled by the extreme individuation of desert life-forms. Love flowers best in openness and freedom.”

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Snow covered long limbs of cottonwood trees reaching out from the fog.

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A dormant cottonwood tree growing among pastel-colored hills and willow trees, quietly awaiting the arrival of spring

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Dormant cottonwood tree engulfed in snow and fog during a winter storm.

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Dormant cottonwood among desert brush.

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Cottonwood tree, oaks, phragmites, and other desert brush frosted in snow, against a canyon wall.

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Cottonwood trees and dormant willows against snow covered badlands.

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Dormant cottonwood tree, willows, and desert brush in winter, along a desert creek.

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Tenacious cottonwood trees eking our a living in a flood and drought prone canyon, glowing in autumn color as another turbulent year comes to an end.

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Cottonwood trees, rabbitbrush, and other desert plants thrive along the narrow channel of a desert river in an area of badlands otherwise almost devoid of life.

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Cottonwoods, oaks, and other desert plant in autumn color welcome one of the year’s first winter storms.

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Cottonwood tree branch lit by early spring sunlight.

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Early spring foliage on cottonwood tree.

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Long-dead small desert shrub gets a daily spotlight for a few moments each morning.

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I’ve had Hermann Hesse on my mind as I visited with these cottonwood trees as they began to sprout new leaves in early spring.

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Cottonwood tree and tafoni wall, in early spring.

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I’ve had Hermann Hesse on my mind as I visited with these cottonwood trees as they began to sprout new leaves in early spring.

Young cottonwood trees, bare during the winter season, against a backdrop of blue badlands.

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Young cottonwood trees growing among willows, in winter colors.

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Large and prolifically branching cottonwood tree in winter.

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Dormant cottonwood tree among willows illuminated by a momentary shaft of evening light.

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“You have to get over the color green; you have to quit associating beauty with gardens and lawns; you have to get used to an inhuman scale; you have to understand geological time.” —Wallace Stegner

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“To sleep, perchance to Dream; aye, there's the rub,

For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come,

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,

Must give us pause.”

—William Shakespeare