The Reincarnation of Berry's

There are some kinds of business that work their way into an individual's blood. Restaurants, for instance. When Berry's disappeared from its PV location a year and a half ago, I bid farewell to my favorite pure rhubarb pie and meatloaf sandwiches.

Then Berry's arose from the dead like a phoenix, now at that iffy Sheldon Street location which had already doomed two unknown cafes. I visited it with the kids yesterday and it was busy, busy, busy mid-morning. Said the waitress, the Berry family had retired, but, when they saw the "for rent" sign, thought that maybe a smaller location might be just right for them. Turns out they still had a following.

We were surprised at how much seating was possible in such a small-looking place: over 30 chairs. The kitchen is also small (below).

Among the nice touches: fresh flowers plus a flag on the table and colorful planters outdoors.

But most important of all, the rhubarb pie is as good as I remember from the G.O.D. (Good Old Days).

Goodbyes

As of mid-afternoon, everybody is gone. Even the last two tadpoles, who joined their buddy who moved to the neighbors' fish pond a couple of days ago.

As of this morning, we had a two-legger (above) and a four-legger (below).

The two legger was carried by OmegaMom in a small gelato dish to the pond; the granddotter carried the nearing froghood critter in her hands. figuring that he was almost ready for the open air.

Goodbye, tadpoles! Enjoy your new lives as frogs. Meet your cousin or brother or sis (below), photographed by our neighbor, who reported that the little spider had attached a guideline to the froglet's nose. Neighbor wondered how long the spider lasted after that foolish maneuver.

A few hours later, the dotter and granddotter were packed and in the rental car on their way to Sky Harbor and thence Alaska. It's lonely here, with just me and the Max cat, but I had a wonderful three weeks with all my family.

Links: Steve Lummer posted an interesting, behind-the-scenes angle on the July 4th fireworks, while Touch Wind travelled to Patagonia where even the pizza parlor featured cool metal figures (scroll down -- there are six separate posts in the series). Then there's The Modulator with the July 10 Friday Ark, featuring a long list of recent critter posts.

Cheap fruit -- yummm!

I'm sure than anyone who spent any part of childhood in California (as I did) grew up with a passion for fruit. When we moved from the Southwest to Florida, we left behind such staples as apricots, Bing cherries and concord grapes. Mandarin oranges and Georgia peaches, though quite tasty, didn't quite fill the bill for California-style fruit lovers.

In recent years, though grapes, peaches and nectarines are often reasonably priced, the really, deeply delicious fruit have tended to be quite expensive, even at the peak of the season. Except for this summer of 2009. Today, those Bing cherries above were just $1 -- one buck -- a pound. Needless to say, I bought several pounds. That was at Costco.

Later at Fry's, this container of strawberries was just another buck (don't be confused by the small number -- we had strawberries for desert tonight). Wow. The raspberry season is past, but there was the day I showed up at Albertson's to see the sign "Raspberries. 10 for $10". The little Driscoll boxes, which usually go for over $3 per. I thought about it very briefly -- then loaded up with the requisite 10 boxes. When I got home, I ate 2 boxes with cream right away and froze the remainder. They took the chill beautifully and over the next few days, I was in raspberry heaven.

I do hope that these low, low prices don't mean that the growers are on hard times. I don't worry about the supermarket chains taking a hit from loss leaders, but would hate to see the farmers go under. Except perhaps the apricot folks who ship fruit that ripens into foam plastic at best, though the dried product is not bad.

Investing in a farmer's crop

While the granddotter and I were examining the dragon and Tree of Life sculpts behind Prescott Coffee Roasters on Tuesday, another group of people nearby were picking up their week's supply of produce from Whipstone Farms at the table below.

Whipstone is one of two Comunity Supported Agriculture farms in the Prescott area; the other, Wolfberry Farm, is operated by Prescott College. In essense, the customers of a CSA farm pay a fixed sum at the beginning of the farm season and in turn collect fruits, veggies and even flowers on a weekly basis as the goodies are harvested. A neat idea, I'd say, with consumers and the farmer sharing both the risks and the bounty (and farming has always been a risky business -- something that we city dwellers have long forgotten).

How it operates, according to the Whipstone web site: Available shares for the 2009 season are limited to 60. The cost of a share is $500 for the season (or approximately $20 a week over an estimated 26 weeks). A share should provide most of the produce required by a family of four. Whipstone also sells at the Flagstaff and Prescott farmers' markets and to some local restaurants.

In case you are into such things, the foods are Certified Naturally Grown, which basically means organic but missing the USDA paperwork required to carry the organic label. Me? I'm more interested in the simple fact of locally grown produce, which means F*L*A*V*O*R on my plate. (Speaking of which, my neighbor's tomatoes are producing and our taste buds are ODing on the tang that only homegrown fruit produce.)

A nice finishing touch -- Whipstone's Shanti Rade also grows flowers, which are also part of the weekly package. This week, it was sunflowers and glads.

Streamside spirits

This slight tale has its beginnings last week at the Salvation Army store, where, out of the blue, a nice gent behind the counter decided that the Granddotter was the right fit for a pair of shiny black tap shoes. Only two bucks. Who could resist. We got to talking. He mentioned that he had carved a dragon and another sculpt to be found by the side of Granite Creek just behind Coffee Roasters.

Next thing you know, even before I managed to get over to the site, Warren of Touch Wind was up from Tucson and had posted some excellent pictures, especially considering how difficult the lighting is creekside. There was the impressively tall dragon, carved (chain saw, Dremel tools) from a big cottonwood stump still rooted in place.

To give you an idea of the size, the Granddotter posed between the creature and the remainder of the stump.

She explained to me that both of the claws (above, below) were at the end of the dragon's wings. I especially like the claws digging into the earth; former roots, I would venture.

I noticed this former stump nearby had been carved out, tho why, I do not know. Perhaps to provide wood for the dragon's teeth and fangs.

The Tree of Life is on the upper bank, looking out over the parking area behind the arty McCormick Street cottages. The entire piece is carved from a big stump that still supports a smaller living tree.

The woman is holding a masculine mask overhead. You can see the remaining part of the tree behind the mask (below).

Below the woman's belly button, which is a sun symbol, are all sorts of critters, with those that fly at the top. Next come a variety of land animals (below).

At the very bottom are sea creatures. Jeff Grabish is the artist who saw the possibilities in these two stumps and turned them into a remarkable pair of streamside spirits.

Shadow play

So what does a granny do if the younger folk are off on a potentially strenuous hike and she's left holding the bag with the picnic goodies? Well, first she photographs the lake (Goldwater, in this case) and canoes, then leaves from different trees. Then it hits her: among the interesting sights around her perch are the shadows of individual trees.

Now that the hot, sunshiny weather is back for a few days, each tree is rooted in its own shadow pool, reminding me of my early childhood in Phoenix, where, of course, I went barefoot. One of the most important imperatives was that the wise kid hopped from shady spot to shady spot; these were islands of relative coolness in the midst of hot, burning dirt.

The character of the shadow varies according to type of tree. At the top of this picture is a Ponderosa pine shadow which is lacy. Beneath it, a little oak's much more solid, darker shade.

Linking Up: Prescott Style, Prescott Daily Photo, and Foolsewoode are all showing pictures from the July 4 parade. I should also mention Jarart's closeup pix from the rodeo. Karoliina has been to the top of Spruce Mountain, where the ladybugs are congregating. (There's nothing more wondrous strange than the sight of thousands of ladybugs, everywhere. Happens at mountain tops this time of year.)

Cotton candy

Lucky granddotter! In contrast, my depression-era childhood was deprived: my ever-practical mother refused to spend a single, hard-earned penny on cotton candy. Ever. All air, no substance, she would say. She was right, of course, but that's beside the point. Which is that cotton candy is the essence of a holiday fair: sweet, fluffy and insubstantial.

And oh so tempting.

You don't even mind the sticky, gooey aftermath. All that's required is a practical dose of water. Not even soap.

A Secondhand Fourth

I don't mean that headline to read as snide. Actually, it's a tribute to the Salvation Army Thrift Store, by this time the only department store that remains in our downtown. Not only did the store have a great selection of patriotic tschokes, but its windows were thoroughly decked out for the holiday.

Above, picnic gear; below, a patriotic touch added to the flamingo wheelbarrow always outside the Sal's antique boutique.

Inside the store, a variety of flags -- and a themed tshirt or two.

Neat cup, candle holder and big bread basket.

Plus a rather sober-sided, British-looking Uncle Sam.

Finally, my special pot for the Fourth -- red/white dianthus, white alyssum and blue lobelia with white eyes. Now I'm going to watch the fireworks at the resort/casino out my front windows. I hope you all had a wonderful Fourth!

Cool Links: Warren of Touch Wind came up from Tucson to visit Prescott recently and did three posts about our town you should see, especially the creekside dragon (scroll down). For a very different series of posts, visit Wasilla Alaska by 300, where photo-journalist Bill Hess details a Nalukatak (successful whale hunting celebration) in a 10-part series with wonderful pictures. Closer to home, Always an Adventure is a family blog that also includes posts about gold prospecting in the Bradshaws. And Susie of Arabia, currently on vacation in Arizona, has recovered her driving muscles and thrown off the black abaya for the duration. This just in: Rich has posted a bunch of pictures of the Fourth of July parade and Meggie has pictures of several English owls.

Biology day camp

As I've mentioned previous summers, the Sson is an ecologist who almost always travels with camera, specimen containers and a fine microscope. What it adds up to for the three grandchildren who've been visiting is a veritable biology day camp.

One granddaughter met a beautiful snake, who assumed the boa position.

Grandson came across more than one Prescott area lizard...

And the littlest granddotter caught herself a polliwog or two. Note that this fellow is well on his way to frogdom.

And everybody pitched in to add various arthropods to Sson's collection, shown here after they emerged from the deep freeze.

Furthermore, the little one had a chance to see wasp larvae through the microscope -- and she was changed from one who goes a girly eeoooh at the sight of a bug into a kid who is quite happy to collect and handle the six-legged critters.

New river sandals

I was introduced to river sandals on one of our first outings after we moved to Prescott. Up at the west branch of the top of Sycamore Canyon, near Whitehorse Lake in the Kaibab. Climbers favor the head of one small canyon they call Paradise Point; on that particular day, two of the climbers were wearing river sandals -- and I knew I wanted a pair. Basic plain they were: a few straps (adjustable) and a sole. That was it.

I later learned that the design was originated by Teva. However, I located a better pair at Lands' End; the strap at the back was also adjustable on this pair, which I've worn for more years than I care to count. Even in winter with my Dr. Seuss Polartec sox to keep my feet warm. (Don't worry -- if it gets colder, I change to my faux Uggs.)

Unfortunately, as time has passed, the footwear people began fancying up their river sandals. For instance, covering more of the foot (above). Or adding straps (below). Tho this pair is reasonably minimal, not all the straps are adjustable.

I've been worrying that one of these days, the straps on my pair will give up. What to do, what to do? Dither. And then, just the other day, I saw the ad for genuine, basic basic river sandals and on sale. Hoohah-- with the family here with wheels, a ride over to the source -- the Big Five sporting goods store in PV.

(Just in passing, I was impressed by this chap, who saw that the exercise equipment was better suited to trying on footwear than the simple benches that the store provided.)

And so here are my new sandals. The figured straps are a bit noisier than I like, but a black magic marker can take care of that problem. On the other hand, every set of straps opens and can be fitted however one prefers. Cool.

Linkages: 1) Amusing French advertising video. 2) A visit to a local petroglyph site. 3) Another local blog you might find interesting. 4) Sadira's wonderful Mad Hatter's Tea Party.

Blogger Get Together Sunday: 2:30 p.m., the day after the 4th, at Flinn Park. My dotter, OmegaMom will be there with the granddotter, so if you have kids in tow, great! The park is at 280 Josephine, just around the corner from Casa Sanchez (Josephine takes off right at the point where West Gurley takes a big bend.) Bring snacks & something to drink if you get thirsty these hot days. For more info, contact me at my grannyj-at-gmail.com

Granddotter does the library

As I mentioned yesterday, the house is now full! Grandchild #3 is now here, tagging along after the teen-age pair. But this morning, the dotter and I took her over to the library to meet Tippy in person (she's had a letter with pictures of the various persona that Tippy has worn over the year). Doggone, she was disappointed. She expected Tippy to be much bigger! Maybe like the dinos she met out Iron Springs Road a couple of years ago. That's what comes of cropping in on one's pictures -- the subject looks bigger than life! Now I happened to like Rodeo Tippy, ready for a week of big doings.

On the other hand, the Blue Hair Challenge caught her imagination. The idea is that if 1000 kids/teens sign up to read 15 minutes per day every day until the end of July, the children's librarians will show up in blue hair at the final day celebration. She signed up, even though she won't be here for the finale. (FYI, the Challenge is already over-subscribed.)

And then proceeded to do her 15-minute read.

Next, I just had to show off the horney toad and the lion. I think the lion was a bigger hit with the dotter than with the GD.

On the other hand, the little bronze girl in the garden really scored. FYI, she reports that there were no words in that book, just lines running across the pages.

Home improvement for the vines

Thanks to requests for contraband seeds from out of state, my many morning glories are about to take off climbing. Right now, the skies the limit. But I've been concerned that 1) there isn't enough room on the few sticks that comprise the "arbor" on my staircase landing and 2) they are too short. Some time ago, I made mental plans for a taller "arbor" with members extending much higher. After all, the longer and higher the vines climb, the longer they blossom.

Fortunately, I currently have a household labor force visiting: the grandchildren from Louisiana. Grandson was armed with the handy bow saw and and sent with his sister up the hill into the big mountain mahogany patch where the tall, reasonably straight stems grow.

Once the requested 8-9 poles were cut, the team gathered them up, proceeded down the hill and through the house to carry them down stairs. Yes, they could have climbed all the way down outside the house; they just didn't think of it... Kids, you know.

Next step, trimming all those little side branches, twigs and leaves, finally mounting the poles along side the previous sticks to offer more places for the flowers to clamber. (To answer the question about the hairdo, the cutting and trimming happened yesterday. Today, the arbor was finished just before Omegamom and the other granddaughter arrived from Alaska. Full house.)

A high cross piece holds the poles in a more orderly pattern. We could have used yet another cross piece about two-three feet higher, but that was a bit too much of a project for the current work team. Aren't grandkids wonderful (even if they drag a sheaf of mountain mahogany cutoffs through the living room to get downstairs)?

Behold: before (above) and after (below).

The Gurley Street hollyhock

If you were reading this blog back in aught '07, you might recall that several years past, our city fathers installed little corner gardens at the main intersections downtown in an effort to slow down traffic. All were carefully landscaped and most have prospered over the years, tho one or two suffer from pedestrians who insist upon using them for short cuts.

The one thing the city fathers did not order up was hollyhocks. Yet what did I see the other day but three or four plants, right there in the planter in front of the Gurley Street Grill, happily blooming away. As I've mentioned previously, Prescott is a hollyhock sort of town; once those lovely old fashioned flowers get a toehold, they go wild here -- and it so happens that half a block around the corner from the Grill, hollyhocks happen every year.

Not my fault. I did not drop a few seed pods in front of the restaurant, though I did throw some down along the creek next to the Bank of America in front of the mural (with no results). Wonder how long these plants will last, whether days, months, or years.

The view from Coco's

No doubt my breakfast companions wondered what I was up to this morning. We were at Coco's and I had an enticing view to the west, so I would periodically pop up to take a picture or two.

'Twas a good opportunity to examine the twin scars running down from the hilltop that houses the Prescott Resort/Casino. I've long been curious: were these trails already present when the structure was built in the 80s -- or are they more recent? Who (or what) made them? Perhaps javelina (or, more likely, quads)? I do notice that nothing appears to have started growing, which suggests that the paths are still in use. Of course, scars like that can last for centuries in the arid West.

My other view was of the cut into the hillside made where the shopping center was built, when -- the late 80s, early 90s? It's a steep cut, primarily into granite -- yet a surprising number of plants have taken root. Nonetheless, the contrast between the hilltop and the cut is quite telling.

The light green to the left is a deciduous tree, likely cottonwood, rooted at the bottom of the cut. The seams in the granite caught my eyes, as did the dead tree (below).

Here the granite does not display any seams. At the top of this picture and below, a big layer of granitic soil between the rock and the hilltop. It looks as though a pathway was cut just below the very top. At the lower left below, a cliff rose is still in bloom, but the Apache plume (upper right) is now in full furl.

Plus a note re: Coco's. Very good, reasonably priced breakfasts -- and a applause-worthy refill policy. Not just bottomless coffee or tea, but ditto for OJ or milk. (FYI: I had boysenberry pie.)

A Plethora of Links: So how does the current economic situation compare to the GD (Great Depression)? A cool idea for a new (to me) blog summarizes daily news from the papers in 1930. Cool Clear Water is sojourning in Mexico; almost every day she posts gorgeous pictures from San Miguel. Ron walks Ft. Bragg, California, and he had a very bright idea that I will try: photograph all the cats that he sees. Speaking of animals: here's an interesting angle on pet rescue -- Operation Roger, a collection of long-haul semi drivers that volunteer room in their cabs to move rescued critters from one point to another. Were you watching that mysterious object in the sky a couple of weeks ago: GeekMom has the full story in her Courier blog. In closing, Frogtown has a bitter-sweet take on the closing of a primary school.

Older Olds

Posting will be sporadic the next three weeks: Sson and family (no guest cat this time) now here for two weeks, with Omegamom & Omegagranddotter arriving next week for a crossover visit & big family get together. (I love it, as you can imagine.) I've even been invited to the rodeo, which will be a first for me after all these years in Prescott!

In the meantime, back at the Square this past weekend, one of two car shows. All were Oldsmobiles. And it was a different experience, too: no street rods. The antique cars all had proper antique wheels (and antique spares for that matter), which should make my Aussie bro happy. Then there was (below) this reminder of my earliest car memories -- a rumble seat! My pop had a Star roadster; my bro and I always rode in the rumble seat. I recall the family driving across the Arizona-California desert at night (the only time of day to travel the desert back then). Bro & I nearly froze because 1) the desert is so very cold at night and 2) the wind was billowing the one blanket that we kids shared.

This roadster also has a rumble seat, not to mention handsome wire wheels, including the two spares.

A classy sedan. Aint' she sweet? While you're admiring, be sure to enjoy the reflections on all the highly polished surfaces.

Here are the 2nd and 3rd oldest cars. I liked the fact that the vehicles were lined up by age, with the oldest right there at the spot where I arrived, all just waiting for my picture taking pleasure.

Above, a representative from the late 1930s? And below, a post WWII convertible? I'm not a car hipster, so don't take my word for the time periods. But, again, enjoy those reflections.

Here, the most recent of the Olds I photographed -- it was time to merge into the Tsunami crowd; besides, I wasn't as interested in the later models. BTW, are all three of those California plates?