Grass Roots
A nine-year-old boy was lying face down in the meadow. He'd ridden that morning from Eagle Rock with his parents to Los Padres National Forest to see the wildflowers. Los Padres borders the State's Central Valley which prior to being converted to farmland, was referred to as the "Serengetti of North America". An hour from home the boy began to catch sporadic glimpses out through the car window of bright patches that would appear at the base of the hills in the distance. They eventually came off of the main highway and followed a two-lane road into the foothills, coming to a stop next to a blazing field of yellow that reached all the way to the horizon. The boy had always lived in the city and was familiar only with the dull shades of green, gray and tan that cover the hills of Northeast Los Angeles year round. He could tell the brilliant effect glowing in the meadow before him was temporary as nothing so intense could possibly be sustained.