The calm after the storm, wind-swept to perfection. Soft light accentuates the curves and ripples. Perfection for this moment in time. Every grain of sand in place. A testament to enjoying the present moment.

Each dune you walk up and over, new patterns and textures are exposed. The work of the wind is never at rest, rearranging the sand dunes continuously. A tear drop falls, and later, it will be wiped away.

The precise folds, the meticulous creases. Origami takes discipline and focus. And nature is the best at it. The lines and shapes are magical.

The Mesquite Flat sand dunes appear to be mimicking Telescope Peak and the Amargosa Range in the distance, minus the snow cover. If you are going to dream, dream big!

Pull those sheets over your head to quiet the world around you. Soft folds and ripples like silky sheets give a serene moment to escape and drift off into your own dream world.

The wind is constantly rearranging the ridges and mounds. Sand builds up and top-heavy, slides down. You can almost hear the wind on that ridge, right?

A close up of a sand dune in Death Valley shows off a feminine curve and seductive shadow. Subtle folds move closer as though attempting to cover up this flirtatious arc.

Dunes rising and dropping off, textures changing from pronounced squiggles to a whisper of movement on the downslope. Here two dunes form the top half of a heart.

With the Amargosa Mountain Range in the distance, the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes look like they are attacking. As opposing forces, I imagine that the wind will win the battle, and the rugged mountains will be deconstructed into grains of sand.

Zigs, zags, arrows, ripples, and ridges define the dunes, which is an abstract photograher's dream. But as you walk deeper into the dunes, do you recall landmarks to find your way out?

I visualize a skier taking this curve at a velocity I'd cringe at. I supose the fall would be soft. But then again, the point is not to fall. That is precisely why I'm an abstract photographer, not a skier.

Love those little cups of goodness? With the folds that you peel away from the chocolate to get to that melt in your mouth om-yum treat? Though it might look tempting, this one is not going to be creamy, guaranteed.

Zabriskie Point in Death Valley offers a surreal panorama. The colors create a magical viewpoint. No fear though--this isn't a soft-serve swirl that will melt.

Dry, hot, and inhospitable to most life, yet this bush hunkers down despite the odds. While life is a struggle in Death Valley, it does persist.

Regal shades of purple decorate these folds of sandstone. Like a sequined gown, the decomposing rock and sand cascade down the incline like a sash adding a finishing touch.

Zabriskie Point at sunrise shows off rich earth tones. Named "Zabriskie" for a family involved in the Borax Company, the family name translates to "beyond the birch tree." Just look around for a tree. Death Valley is way beyond any birch trees. Way beyond!

The dawn tries to wake up the distant Panamint Range. Jagged edges and rich colors come alive as the morning takes its shift from the night.

Hexagons of salt stretch out into infinity in the Badwater Basin in Death Valley. Six-sided shapes spiritually reflect balance. Though they appear random, there is a synchronicity in their arrangement, and I'm reminded that there are forces at work of which I may never understand.

While I might not have retained much from chemistry class, the salt flats in Death Valley remind me of molecular structures. Crunchy, crusty tiles of salt with little barriers between each gives me a sense of wonder in how they form.

The surface of the salt flats magnified; the white stuff is nicknamed "cottonball." Trust me, it is not soft and fluffy. The early miners to Death Valley treasured this stuff. Cottonball was scraped up and hauled off for the rich content of borax, a cleaning agent and laundry booster.

I saw a movement at the surface of the salt flats. Here, in a place that looked like nothing should be living, an insect no bigger than an ant scurried through the cottonball. Tracking him to take his picture proved more challenging than any wildlife I've ever shot!

This photograph was commissioned by Farm Security Administration/Office of War Information between 1935 and 1944 to form an extensive pictorial record of American life. The "Square Pegs" photo of mine shows the detail close up of the wagon's wheel.

Who says square pegs don't fit in round holes? You've just got to give everything a chance. This close up is of a wheel well of a vintage wagon used in Death Valley to haul lumber and borax.

At The Oasis at Death Valley, a fountain trickles, ironic for the surroundings. I decided to create an impressionist photo of the fountain as a double entendre to the meaning of "mirage."

The cottages at The Ranch in Death Valley are a new addition to lodging. Everyone was out exploring instead of sitting around. As it should be with such amazing sights to see.

Yes, I got a little crazy with the rocking chairs. Consider this a portal to time travel here to Death Valley. But I'd highly recommend taking the road and seeing the landscape unfold as you drive.