Driftwood Conversations

A Gathering for the Future of the Basin

Yesterday I attended a workshop that left me unexpectedly hopeful.

In a room filled with educators, conservationists, artists, scientists, nonprofit leaders, park advocates, volunteers, astronomers, teachers, and community organizers, attendees gathered to ask a surprisingly simple question: How do we help people, especially young people, truly understand the desert they live in?

At the center of the gathering was Janet Johnson, a board member of the Morongo Basin Conservation Association, whose ongoing efforts to connect organizations, educators, and environmental programs helped bring the workshop to life. What emerged was less a formal conference than a living conversation about how communities learn to care for the places they inhabit.

The workshop grew organically from ongoing collaborations among the Morongo Basin Conservation Association, the Joshua Tree Foundation for Arts and Ecology at the Lou Harrison House.

The gathering brought together people from organizations including the Joshua Tree Foundation for Arts and Ecology, Mojave Desert Land Trust, Joshua Tree National Park Association, Sky’s The Limit Observatory and Nature Center, Friends of Big Morongo Canyon Preserve, the Hi-Desert Nature Museum, Copper Mountain College, Wildlands Conservancy, Joshua Tree National Park, and others.

People discussed watersheds, wildlife corridors, flood zones, fire ecology, environmental literacy, dark-sky preservation, permaculture, citizen science, volunteer programs, astronomy, desert tortoises, native plants, and outdoor education.

Underneath it all was the recognition that communities survive when people understand the places they live in, not just emotionally or spiritually, but also practically.

Understanding where your home sits within a watershed. Understanding what happens when a flash flood moves through a wash. Understanding fire zones, water limitations, changing weather patterns, and how those realities may affect insurance, safety, and long-term survival in the desert.

Several people spoke about how many new residents move here without fully understanding the land they live on. Flood zones are invisible until a storm hits. Washes that look dry and harmless can suddenly turn into raging rivers after heavy rain. One speaker described watching a normally quiet wash become a terrifying flood channel overnight. Another speaker described people building directly in flood-prone areas without realizing the consequences.

I’ve experienced it firsthand, and it is deeply frightening. When you witness a flash flood in the desert, you quickly realize this landscape is alive. Water has memory here. The land remembers where it wants to flow.

Throughout the day, speakers returned to the idea that environmental literacy is not abstract. It is deeply personal. It affects where we build, how we live, what we plant, how we conserve water, how communities prepare for climate realities, and even whether people can continue to afford insurance in vulnerable areas. Knowing what you are buying into when you move to the desert is essential.

The conversation was never rooted in fear. It was rooted in awareness and a commitment to keeping these conversations alive, because when people truly understand the ecosystems they inhabit, they begin to make different choices. They become more thoughtful about water, land use, light pollution, conservation, development, and community responsibility.

And they begin to feel connected to the place itself.

Pat Flanagan spoke powerfully about systems thinking and “consequences,” reminding everyone that ecosystems are built on relationships and feedback loops. A recurring theme throughout the day was that every action creates ripples. Water flows somewhere. Development changes something. Light affects the night sky. Human decisions reshape ecosystems, often in ways we notice only much later.

There was also a strong emphasis on place-based education. Many speakers stressed the importance of getting children outdoors to experience the desert firsthand, rather than only through books or screens. Workshop-presented programs included guided hikes, journaling exercises, astronomy nights, wildlife monitoring, volunteer restoration projects, school field trips, environmental science curriculum, storytelling, permaculture training, and cultural ecology programs.

One educator described students sitting quietly among boulders, journaling about what they saw and felt. Another described children looking through telescopes and seeing the solar system in a new light. Still others discussed helping students understand water systems, flood washes, native habitats, and the broader ecological relationships that shape desert life.

I could imagine how transformative those experiences might be for young people. Sometimes, a single moment outdoors, a telescope, a trail, or a conversation can quietly redirect a life’s course.

Again and again, the gathering returned to the idea that people protect what they understand and that they understand what they experience firsthand.

One moving moment came from the words of Serrano-Cahuilla elder Kim Marcus, whose reflections on sacred land, memory, and cultural survival grounded the conversation in a much longer history. Though he was not present, Eva Soltis read his message aloud. His words served as a reminder that long before modern environmental science existed, Indigenous communities already knew how to live in relationship with the land.

I was also deeply touched by the number of young people entering this work and by the support they receive from the people and organizations around them.

A young ranger from Big Morongo Canyon Preserve stood to speak. She admitted almost immediately that she felt more comfortable with children than with speaking in front of adults.

Kevin Wong spoke warmly about her afterward, saying she had become one of their best hires because of the way she connected with young people.

Jaden Bauer, an environmental science student and intern at Joshua Tree National Park, spoke articulately about growing up in Twentynine Palms and only later discovering the extraordinary landscape that had always surrounded her. She described how internships, conservation research, volunteer projects, and environmental education programs shaped her future and gave her a sense of purpose. Jaden also shared that receiving a scholarship from MBCA reinforced her direction and commitment to environmental work.

It is incredibly powerful to be recognized.

Again and again, I watched people encourage one another, acknowledge each other’s work, and speak openly about the value someone had brought to their lives or organizations. Young people were being mentored. Educators were recognizing volunteers. Conservation leaders were lifting up interns and new staff. Quiet people who might otherwise have remained invisible were being recognized for their contributions.

There is unexpected power in encouragement. Sometimes a single scholarship, a kind word, an internship, an invitation, or even someone simply saying “you matter here” can alter the course of a person’s life.

I could feel that throughout the room. And heard it again from Jaden while we were speaking during lunch.

In many ways, the workshop was not only about ecology or education. It was also about helping people feel connected enough to believe they belong to something larger than themselves.

There was also a growing sense that organizations that had often worked separately were beginning to recognize one another as part of a larger ecosystem. The conversation shifted to how to strengthen community, prepare young people for the future, and build deeper relationships with the land and with one another.

As someone building a nonprofit called What’s Good in the World, I found myself listening carefully. So much of what I hope to support through Driftwood Conversations and future community projects already exists in seed form across this region. People are doing meaningful work quietly, often without adequate funding, recognition, or support. Yet they continue anyway.

Some of the moments that stayed with me included a child seeing the Milky Way for the first time, a student journaling beside desert boulders, a volunteer restoring habitat, a teacher explaining watersheds, a scientist teaching about ecological feedback loops, a musician teaching students to listen carefully to silence, and a conservationist helping people understand consequences.

Real change may not arrive all at once through large institutions or sweeping declarations.

It may happen because many people quietly carry small lights in the same direction.

Check out any of these organizations, volunteer, donate, and learn about them. This is our community.

Thanks for being here with me.

Sincerely,

Hilary

Joshua Tree Sky