Meanwhile, back in Prescott...

I arrived home to find my potted garden in glorious bloom! My kind neighbor had watered all the annuals transplanted before I left -- result, potsful of bright colors. And, yes, I have a lot of snapdragons this year. Not only are they reliable, but in our climate, snaps are perennial, growing a little bit bigger each year.

The pyracantha is a cloud of blossoms -- plenty of little red pomes for the robins next winter. Right now, the bees abound. AND. I finally captured a decent picture of one at work.

More happy snapdragons in the round horse-feed containers. I took a chance with marigolds, which I'm quite fond of but, as a rule, avoid, because the bugs devour them unmercifully. And unfortunately, the crystal palace lobelia, another favorite, does not photograph well. I'd have to really get to know PhotoShop to bring up the deep, rich blue of those flowers in the lower right hand corner above.

Nice color mix on this snap.

Oh, yes, though I'm not a serious rosarian, I have four neat miniature bushes. You know, the kind you buy in the grocery store as a gift when you can't think of anything else to give to an elderly aunt. They work quite well in my larger pots, growing into small bushes with pretty little roses. As long as they get watered, they're content.

Another old fashioned favorite -- dianthus. Very productive -- and perennial in Prescott.

Even the coral bells were blooming when I arrived home...

...as was the iris, one of the few tame plants actually in the ground at Chez GrannyJ. Bearded iris are quite at home hereabouts; one can find them growing without any help in abandoned locales where there may have once been houses, now long gone.

Also in the ground, my supposed-to-be-red California poppy blossomed wildly, immediately followed by a proliferation of seed pods; I haven't decided whether to deadhead the plant for more flowers. If you look very, very carefully, you will see that the underside of the petals is red. Curious. My aunt up in Victoria had a neighbor lady whose California poppies were red or white. She believed in evolution -- if a flower showed up in orange or another color, she immediately cut it off. Needless to say, her flowers bred true. The poppy, BTW, sits right next to my Famous Everblooming , very R.E.D. Paintbrush, as you can see.

More paint brush. Aren't they super? This plant is my version of those gigantic cabbages grown up in Alaska -- it really impresses everybody.

And here is another of the local wildflowers -- desert four o'clock. Each year, this particular plant just grows a little bit bigger, with more flowers in the spring and later once the monsoons arrive. Very easy from the pretty seeds -- if you pick the right spot.

Ethnic Memphis

That's one thing I truly miss, living in small town Prescott: the ethnic neighborhoods one finds in big or even medium-sized cities. Of course, Memphis doesn't compare with Chicago's incredible diversity. But then I wasn't expecting anything. Not in a American city in the South.

However, the Famous Niece from Memphis made sure that I saw the Buddhist Temple. Vietnamese. Very interesting just how a few touches on a standard model Memphis home changed its entire complexion. Of course, the gate, with its four dragons makes a big, big difference.

I should mention in passing that I also saw two Islamic centers, but was unable to get pix from the car.

However, I really got a kick how the Chinese food place adapted to local preferences, including local Vietnamese (below) as well as good ole boys.

Here's my favorite mix of styles -- subs & Chinese cuisine. I didn't try any; my only meal out in Memphis was Mid-South Ethnic -- which is to say, BarBQ.

Down on the crawfish farm...

Continuing my report on recent adventures in the South...

Folks in SW Louisiana take their crawfish very seriously. In Breaux Bridge, a crawfish queen is crowned annually at a festival honoring the little fresh water critter. And everywhere you look, there's apt to be a sign advertising boiled crawfish (below). Here in Arizona, conservation officials have declared war on the ubiquitous, invasive crawdad; in Louisiana, they farm the native crayfish (tho they don't call them by that name.)

That's why the Sson & I stopped by the roadsides several times -- to get pictures of commercial crawfish ponds. The little guys were even in evidence in the ever-present ditch next the highway, as evidenced by those round diggings. The pond below is perhaps six to twelve inches deep, with baited crawfish pots scattered about.

Here's a close up picture of a crawfish trap. And, to answer a question from one of my readers: following the devastation of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita in 2005, pond-raised crawfish yields in Louisiana are rebounding. In the 2006-07 season, the crawfish harvest in the state totaled 109.2 million pounds of pond-raised crawfish, which were sold for $84.6 million, making pond-raised crawfish the state's most valuable aquaculture crop. About 1.5 million pounds of wild crawfish were harvested, with a value of $1.3 million. Crawfish exports rose, totaling $257 thousand. This according to the Louisiana State University Agricultural Center.

Comes harvest time, the pond operator sets out in a shallow-draft boat to collect the critters from the pots. The boats have wheels to move easily over land or pond embankments.

A collecting bag that got away.

A sampling of Southern cemeteries

It was many years ago that I first learned the importance of cemeteries to a town's growth patterns. A friend's husband was studying economic geography; the subject of his thesis was just how the location of cemeteries can funnel, constrain or even strangle growth. Pulling up these photos is the first time I've remembered his insights .

A cemetery in Cajun country is very much in your face, unlike the peaceful lawns common elsewhere in the USA. Reason: the soil is water-logged; burials take place above ground and the marble tombs are crowded next to one another, quite visibly. Since there is plenty of land in and around Lafayette and other Cajun parishes, I doubt that the tombs are either stacked one atop the other nor reused as they are in those famous New Orleans cities of the dead.


Further north in Tennessee horse country east of Memphis, I became acquainted with another Southern burial custom -- the family cemetery. The three grounds that the Other Niece from Memphis and I discovered on our drive to the pearl fisheries were well kept and IDed, but many are lost to forest regrowth or development.

According to a recent article in the Washington Post, in Tennessee, as in other Southern states, farm families in centuries past tended to bury their dead on their own land, allowing for quick interment and easy oversight of graves. In the Northeast, by contrast, families were more likely to use public burial grounds and church cemeteries. "The Southern pattern was that every farm or plantation would have their family cemetery," said Charles Reagan Wilson, director of the Center for the Study of Southern Culture at the University of Mississippi.

As an example of what's happening, the Hawkins-Hess cemetery is smack dab up against a big I-10 truck stop or, perhaps it's the other way round! State archaeologist Nick Fielder estimates that there are 20,000 family cemeteries in Tennessee, but there's no way to know for sure. There's no central inventory, and most documentation is done by historians and volunteers who scour records and trudge through meadows in search of graves. Fielder says about 100 family cemeteries fall in the path of development in Tennessee each year, according to the Post article.

The Cajun world: meat stores

As explained by my Sson, the Cajun culture is basically a meat and rice culture. The meat store, of which I saw several, is an important source of basic food supplies, such as boudin and cracklin. Charlie-T's is one local favorite in the Lafayette region. The most critical portion of the store is at the rear -- the smoke house. (Later note: I'm linking to the boudin page; please take a look at the map -- it's a picture of the area I was visiting...)

Another local favorite: The Best Stop supermarket. Each meat store has its own private family recipes for the assorted sausage goodies purveyed; every store has its followers who argue over where one can buy the best boudin.

I believe that the boudin is on the upper shelf in the picture above. Sson says that it evolved from traditional French blood sausage; the Cajun favorite is a mix of rice, seasoning and pork meat pieces which can be squeezed from the casing.

Other major main dishes in Cajun Louisiana: crawdads and shrimp.

The grandchildren love cracklins ... a candy-rich deep fried snack made from pork rinds with fat and meat attached. Not a food any cardiologist would ever OK. I found it yummy, but very filling.

Want to try alligator meat? The Best Stop can fill your order.

Though called a "supermarket", this store's line of produce was limited to onions, potatoes and yams. Not even the other basic Cajun veggies, green peppers and celery.

Among the packaged foods on the shelves. Zatarain's products are close to being staples in Louisiana. I believe I've seen the dirty rice mix at our local Prescott supermarkets, BTW.

And, next the cash register, a bulletin board where partisans of The Best Stop's brand of meats can sign up. I didn't see whether or not that picture of Elvis at right carried a signature.

Critter postscript

Hah! I found the other household critter pictures -- on the other, close-up camera. Couldn't close out the subject til I had posted these. First, the beautiful green tree frog with wondrous velcro foot pads...

...and the Sson's family studying the lad's caterpillar (below). Some sort of wooly bear. My DIL (who worries about these things) had tried several different leaves, but the he (or she) wasn't having any. Finally, a field book look-up suggested it might be an oak leaf eater. The grandson brought in a supply knocked down by the previous night's high winds; by morning, the caterpillar had munched out sufficiently that the little cage had to be cleaned.

Linkables: I'm not usually big on U-Tube, but in keeping with all those amphibians in the home on the coulee down in Lafayette, you might catch Terry Fator's singing turtle; speaking of Kermit... And while on the subject of amphibians, I had a letter from Aunt Phibia (Juanita Carlson) asking for $$ help to replace the big lighting structure for the Tsunami on the Square; the trusses -- $10 to 15Gs worth of aluminum -- were apparently stolen from storage up in Chino. Finally, if you'd like to see some more gorgeous spring cactus flowers, hie yourself over to Touch the Wind and scroll down; Warren has posted quite a few different blossoms, including my absolutely most favorite -- the brilliant, deep orange mariposa lily.

Household critters

Home. Several thousand pictures are downloaded. Time for the stories to begin.

They begin in the new house of Sson in Lafayette LA, heart of the Cajun country. As you may know by now, he is a biologist/ecologist; he and his clan are into critters. Deeply into critters, starting with the Yoda Cat, who travels with the family on summer visits to the west. Yes, Yoda is a Siamese mutt, like Max. There are differences, however, both in personality and appearance. Note the white marking on the nose/forehead; he has white feet, too.

My bathtub at Sson's new house. Can't leave the turtles outside at night -- no telling what marauding monsters might emerge from the coulee at the back of the yard. Yes, there was also a separate shower, just in case I didn't want to bathe with the family reptiles.

The daily transfer of turtles from bathtub to wading pond, where they can enjoy the Louisiana sun. If there is any in this humid country.

The kitchen counter is big enough for a couple of less sociable turtles, BTW.

In my bedroom, I met the family snakes -- three of 'em.

By this time, the porch snake will probably have slithered off into the water in the coulee. Sson's wife couldn't get him to eat and insisted that he be released.

The tree frog (upper left) and the salamander had a home on a shelf in the laundry room.

So much for the household pets. There were also outdoor critters to consider. My granddaughter caught this anole, who figures her finger is of a size he can handle. Such lizards were called chameleons when my family lived in Florida, because they turn from brown to bright green, depending upon the background. Not true chameleons, however.

I went hunting with my camera, finally cornering myself an anole -- and then (hide your eyes if you are persnickety) found the brazen couple below.

My fearless granddaughter next showed up with a medium-sized wolf spider.

And, after dark one evening, she brought in this cute little toad. Did I mention that a lot of energy goes into keeping this large family of critters well fed and reasonably happy?

Dumb attack dog: a Memphis adventure

So The Other Niece from Memphis and I were motoring back toward I40 after a visit to the fresh water pearl facility on the Tennessee River. More about that later. In any event, as we cruised along & I scanned the countryside for photo ops, we passed a one-truck volunteer fire department, with a wonderful picture on the side of the vehicle.

Time to stop and admire. And click. And take a close look at yesterday's truck, mouldering in the grass.
(Sorry about the picture sizes, guys -- I'm working on an Alien Computer, complete to a Secret, Hidden Photo Edit Program. Maybe I can correct the pix tonight after the Mississippi side wheeler excursion.)



Even as we turned to leave the volunteer fire department drive, the dog showed up, barking loudly. He danced to the right of the Toyota, he danced to the left of the Toyota and, most manly of him, he danced in front of the Toyota. This drill continued until we were well out on the highway, with an angry driver behind us honking, loudly. At last the attack dog gave up. We could have killed him several times over. But he was manly, that animal. Dumb dog!

Communicado

Hi -- Mine hostess is in bed & so I can't plead with her to get a hook-up from my camera to her computer. Therefore a short post, and sweet, of course. I have many pictures for you, just waiting for that hook up:

Remnants from Hurrican Rita (a Gulf town literally wiped out, with little rebuilt since), several attempts at bird photography (large waterbirds, including a roseate spoonbill and a white ibis), oll biddiness pix (ranging from tanker trucks to heavy equipment, but no walking beams -- my memory chip was full up), Cajun agriculture pix (rice paddies and commercial crawdad ponds) and shrimp boats, seashells at the waterfront, etc.

The days have been a bit of a whirlwind, with airplanes and excursions here, there and everywhere else. Tomorrow, the Other Niece from Memphis drives me to the river-pearl works, followed by a Tennessee hoe-down. A Mississippi River stern-wheeler tour is in the offing, a quick drive-by pass at Elvis' own Graceland mansion and on Sunday, a wonderful Mother's Day dinner of pot roast plus rhubarb pie, all prepared by my grand ex-sister-in-law, at whose home I am currently boarding.

Maybe tomorrow, I can make my hook-up.

Night night.

Incommunicado

Quick update from OmegaMom: Granny J is in Lewzianna, being shown small Cajun towns, the Gulf of Mexico, gators, and other grand stuff. Alas, she is incommunicado, due to the fact that SS and family have only a dial-up connection, and their computer is non compos mentis at the moment. She figures to be able to get online at her next stop in Memphis amongst the Famous Nieces From Memphis. I would have updated you sooner, but had forgotten her password, and timing phone calls between Alaska and Lewzianna was difficult. Anyway, look for new posts from her perhaps on Tuesday or Wednesday!

Goodyby, Max, see ya soon

There's my cat, packaged up in a fine cardboard carrier from the vet's. I discovered early Friday, when I had to squeeze Max into a tight schedule to get his shots, etc., that my cat carrier had gone north full of turtles. So the cat travelled to the vet's in a laundry bag, and returned in this container.

And there is my good friend, the chicken whisperer, who kindly drove us to the cat storage facility, where Max will remain for two weeks, in what is described as a cat condo.

Here's one of two entrances to the vet's...

While I was avoiding Important Matters relating to travel, I happened upon a storage disk that included pictures of Max kitten which I thought would be nice to include with this post. Max has lived in my house for seven years now -- he's almost middle-aged and, of course, has darkened in the Siamese fashion.

Yes, there was a hint of temper already evident; he's developed that talent to its fullest over the years. If he hears the word NO, he rears back and makes a particular sound that means "I'd like to bite you!"

Max was trained to the leash early and for a couple of years, he was only allowed outdoors while tethered. Being a contrary sort, he would not go walking with anyone.

A talky cat, Max figured out that if he brought me the harness, I would get him dressed to go outdoors; this continued til he got tangled one time too many. From then on, I just allowed Max the freedom to go wherever he wished. Fortunately, his turf is pretty close to the house and we don't have coyotes.

Take a good look at that tail. It was as long as his body; Sson, the biologist, figured Max came complete with a couple of extra vertebrae to produce such a fine appendage.

He has indeed grown into that tail, now weighing in at 13 pounds and barely fitting into my lap. I will miss him while I visit Sson and family in the Bayou country and then the Famous Niece from Memphis, the Other Niece from Memphis and their families. I will try to keep everybody posted.

Carnival Linkage: One of my posts is featured in Berry-Go-Round #4, the new plant and flower carnival; you might like to pay this new carnival a visit.

The new sculpture at Yavapai College

Don't know when this new sculpture first made its appearance at the entrance to Yavapai College, but it certainly wasn't there when I visited the school's sculpture garden last fall. I breakfast once a week at JBs with friends, which is why I discovered this very American Indian looking fellow; he's quite visible from Sheldon Street.

A closer look at the sculpture.

I had assumed that this was strictly metal work, but a zoom-in reveals that the center post is wooden. Can't furnish any details as to the sculptor's name or studio or location -- I tried The Google, but no dice. My fault. If I were to produce my posts during the day, instead of late evening, I could simply ring up the PR department at the college and ask.

Monday Morning: I did it! Called Yavapai College; the sculptor is Dick Marcuson, who at one time was on the art faculty. Other college/sculpture news: I'm sad to report that the collection of junkyard horses at Prescott College, which had grown to three, is now down to a single, lonely beast.

Dormers & roof details

At one time, I was bedazzled by the moderns -- Mies, le Corbosier, et al. I suspect it's a phase of growing up, because I'm long since over it. Turns out that Mies' apartment towers in Chicago had leaky windows and Corbosier's sleek apartment complexes today comprise some of those bleak and dangerous immigrant slums ringing Paris. Besides, to top it off, that's one thing the 20th century moderns did not do -- finish the tops of their buildings. Their buildings simply stopped. Not so, architects from earlier times. They paid meticulous attention to roof lines and roof details. Quite picture-worthy, as well.

The historic Bashford House on the Sharlot Hall Museum grounds offers a sampling of Victorian embellishment -- everything from stained glass windows and a beautiful sun room to several neat dormer windows. No towers, however. Besides, I'm saving my towers for another post.

Another approach to the dormer, at Park Avenue and Gurley. I especially admire the circular shingles above the window. This picture is somewhat accidental -- I was aiming for the raven at the peak of the roof.

A later version of the dormer decorating a brick bungalow on Grove Street. Isn't the window glass nicely mullioned? Nobody offers such detailing anymore, at least to middle-class home-owners. Too expensive, no doubt, as well as a bitch to keep clean.

Yet another style of dormer, this one somewhat roomier -- but marred by that air conditioner (which is probably quite necessary in our hot June/July.)

Finally, a not-quite dormer over on Park Avenue.

Linkages: Have you read about the cat cafes in Tokyo? Count on the Japanese to come up with this strange type of innovation. Wonder if such tea houses would pass muster with our health departments? Also: hie yourself immediately to Touch the Wind, with two wonderful posts of ephemera in Tucson.

Dead car, very dead

When you venture out into the Arizona countryside, you'll find every manner of abandoned item, from former towns ... or gas stations ... to the all-American icon, the sedan. We found this particular case north of the Verde; it had all the earmarks of theft for the mindless purpose of joyride.
And the equally mindless pleasure of destruction.

Note the bags of dog food that never reached the car owner's dog. Note all those pieces of glass. Safety glass, at that.

It appears that every last window plus the windshield was totalled. We were not in forensic mode, because time was short, so I can't comment further about weapons used to break the glass.

Except that evidence for one weapon is notably missing: not a single bullet hole. Not your usual Arizona back-country heap, which almost always serves as a target for every gunsel who happens to be in the neighborhood.

Linkage: Regular visitors know that I am an admirer of chain-saw sculptury and here's an fine example of the art, from the lady who posts a daily picture from Albuquerque. In this case, the subject is a lion. That is to say, an African lion, with a beautiful mane.

Flags to celebrate springtime

I suppose that if I really checked out the local True Value thoroughly, I could locate the proper hardware to mount my own flags. I like 'em; they're bright, colorful, seasonal and generally of good cheer. Thus far, I've left it to others.

Sandy's Corner on Gurley Street obviously owns an excellent collection; the flags are changed quite regularly. BTW, a question of old-timers -- what did the original occupant of this store sell? There's that hint of a Dutch windmill building on top of the roof, which is symbolic of dairy products in the USA, which, in turn, says that the primary product must have been ice cream.

Another business with a big-time collection of flags is JB's. Currently the theme is obviously Spring!

Happy bluebirds (above) & a pissed-off bluebird (below).

My neighbor has furled his dog and is now flying a stylized sun, seen through the aspen catkins. What could be more springlike?

Was tempted by the pretty swallowtail butterfly when I stopped by Tuesday Morning on Wednesday. But, again, there's that business of the necessary hardware. And the installation. And making up my mind just where to put it. Decisions, decisions, decisions. I hate to make decisions.