Monday, January 12, 2009

Junk by the wash

Any local who travels the county road between Skull Valley and Kirkland knows this cottonwood, located at the bridge over the wash as you enter Kirkland. For long years, it housed a major hawk nest, though the nest is gone the past few seasons. I wanted a picture of this venerable tree and so dotter and I stopped by the Skull Valley wash on our way to visit the Santa Maria River.

Not much to see: no water, although in winter, the stream sometimes nears the bridge. We did happen across a fine pile of mesquite pods -- good food for several critters, including people.

It was also a stopping point for people who are inclined to shed unwanted bits and pieces of their lives. A Ford hub cap.

Glaring white plastic pipe. And the prize: a dead truck bench. Very dead.

Why is it that when you have something to dump, in Arizona it goes into the wash (or the river bottom)? You would think that people would, at the very least, pile their junk in the middle of scrub to hide it. But no: into the wash it goes for all to see. At least the amount of Stuff at this particular location was limited.

Linkage: I was busy, busy this afternoon, updating my links over at the right. Take a look -- I've added a good 15-20 new blogs for your reading pleasure. Also, may I point you in the direction of the dotter (OmegaMom), who has poured her frustration with family, flu and below zero temperatures into a series of haiku.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Could some of these items have been carried here when the water was up and running?

Granny J said...

steve -- not very likely. The wash doesn't run that much water except when we're getting the tail end of a Pacific hurricane.

Kate/High Altitude Gardening said...

Nice how you turned that hubcap into a work of art. When we were kids we used to spend hours lifting the raised Ford letters off old farm pick-ups and re-attaching them to read DORF. South Dakotans... what can I say? We're all a bit weird.

Granny J said...

Kate -- I have to admit that is just a bit on the weird side... Does DORF have a special, hidden meaning in the Dakotas?

 
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