Tuesday Morning on Tuesday

It has been a good eight or nine months since I last visited Tuesday Morning, the high-end kitsch close-out mart. How could I pass up another opportunity to browse the latest in pricey mark downs! The fine cat above is the first bit of fluff merchandise to demand my attention.

Having recently posted about crosses as object de decor, I found yet another example.

The understated silky ties for the gents just didn't photograph as luxe, though that's how they appeared to the eyebone. Too bad.

Don't you agree that this shiny black bird gives every indication of crow-ness -- except for the tropical crest. Perhaps it's a raven from the deepest Amazon or Sumatra?

As ever, decorative gee-gaws from the Asian Department, a staple at Tuesday Morning.

And, finally, the only reason that I decided upon posting from Tuesday Morning this time around: the most dreadful, misunderstood Elvis kitsch ever. I wonder how long this stuff has been hiding in a warehouse awaiting the day when The King is enough of a legendary ghost that people will have forgotten the reality of that sexy, sullen face with the heavy-lidded eyes. This version looks as tho he's been sanded, polished and approved for dating by Barbie's Mom and Dad.

Oh yes -- I did buy one item: a fluffy, warm bathrobe in a pale lime green. Half price at $15. No, there was no luxury semi-sweet chocolate on sale. I don't think there will ever again be chocolate like my first purchase at Tuesday Morning.

Smoke gets in your eyes

And your lungs and everything smells of wood burning. Today, it was a control burn in the forest, south of Prescott. The wind decided to switch directions and head into town; it was a fine day for the photographer to deal in classic Chinese-style perspective, with the smoke separating layer after layer of distance. Picture number one was taken about 10:30 this morning. Shortly after 11 a.m., we saw this pillar of smoke emerging from the burn.

With the Prescott basin filled with smoke, Thumb Butte was a ghost at the horizon. Even the Pioneer Home, only two blocks away (below), seemed to be lost in a Pacific Coast fog. When I tried to locate Granite Mountain, it had disappeared behind a curtain of smoke.

The final three pictures were taken about 2 p.m. from the north side of town. Already the smoke was beginning to clear away in the city and by the time I got home, the wind had shifted again, clearing the air somewhat.

No surprise: the grumbles are being posted at the Courier web site. I can sympathize with those who worried, citing the control burn that got out of hand when the winds shifted up near Williams last week. I think most of the others are convinced that if the PNF fire managers only put out milk at night, the brownies would take care of matters and we'd never have such awful smoke again (and any wildfires would magically disappear). Just incidentally, the Twin Fire on Bill Williams Mountain was 60% contained as of about 7:30 p.m.; I found this out via a Twitter site set up for the fire news by Kaibab National Forest. Great use of this Internet resource!

Wood carvers among the veggies

At Saturday's Farmer's Market, their stands sat cheek by jowl, two wood carvers. One dealt in crosses, the other in kitchens. Or at least kitchen implements.

Apparently there is a market in crosses, supported by collectors; I've seen several walls displaying a number of crosses from different sects and periods of history. Especially handsome: the tall staff topped by the small cross.

Chatted with the other carver who allows that he's always worked in wood. His kitchen tools are all made from local wood -- Arizona walnut, oak, juniper. Pretty enough that one would hate to get one of those scrapers above dirty.

He also makes classic wooden spoons, solid cutting boards, even handsome pizza peels. And he's set for the season when it coms to tomatoes; he was arranging a trade with another exhibitor when I showed up, tomatoes for $35 cutting board. That's sure a good supply -- I'm reminded of my boss back in Chicago who grew her own tomatoes. Her bloody mary's were the best I've ever tasted.

A Sampling of Yavapai County Bridges

Aside from the old truss bridges at Perkinsville and Walnut Grove, the railroad span across Hell Canyon has to be one of my favorites. I do not have a date for this image, but Hell Canyon carries a running stream, which means that it's spring runoff season. One of my secret dreams is to ride across this bridge in one of those funny autos that railroad inspectors drive down the tracks. Remember when they used open hand-pumped cars?

Of course, every little stream or wash needs to be bridged for railroad loads. This particular crossing is up in the juniper woods north of Paulden and Drake.

Two bridges for the auto age. Above is a total mystery, unless it is possibly the Old89 bridge across Hell Canyon; it certainly does not look to be in use at the time the picture was taken. The modern span below is, I'm pretty sure, US93 at Burro Creek (my clue: what looked to be saguaros on the slopes). I'd appreciate word from anyone who can correct or verify.

Have I mentioned that my late husband not only was an excellent photographer, but that I have thousands of his images stored in boxes and folders. Unfortunately far too many of the pictures are 35mm slides and, though I have a rather pricey scanner, Nikon has not seen fit to upgrade its drivers for the latest Mac OS. Grrr!!! I know that there are more pictures of the Hell Canyon crossings, both old US89 and the Santa Fe, as well as the old truss bridge across Kirkland Creek at Yava. Among many others.

Bridge Linkage: As I was trying to ID my bridges by consulting The Google, interesting references cropped up. F'rinstance, specs for several historic Yavapai County bridges. Tombo has posted one of his great pix of the Hell Canyon railroad bridge at Wikipedia; there's a 1920 postcard of the same span with a train crossing for $9.95 at eBay, and I got completely caught up in reading of the rise and fall of the Santa Fe route through Prescott at Google books.

Critters at my window

Actually, I had planned to blog about the end of the farmers' market season... or perhaps the wonderful contraptions over at the transportation building at the Sharlot Hall Museum... or possibly my favorite leather craftsman who makes gun belts. Those plans were, however, short circuited when I heard the raspy voices of a acorn woodpecker or two. Very close by.

Looking out my 2nd floor office window at the ledge just below, lo and behold, a pair of birds plus a third that took off. The second fellow skedaddled while I fetched up my camera, but I did manage to get two fairly decent shots of the remaining critter at close range. I just hope these guys aren't real estate prospecting -- don't need any holes in my house, like they've pecked out in others in the neighborhood. Look what they do to trees where they store their acorns.

My good luck continued, as I looked out the window while eating supper. There outside the window, with a sunset backdrop, was a large spider climbing up her guy line, swinging back and forth in the breeze. She didn't make very good headway and thus was still available for a portrait when I had retrieved the camera from office. Wonder if she'll be around come Halloween...

Still More Links: Great stuff from two of my favorite bloggers this weekend. Catalyst was busy, visiting both the County Fair and the Folk Music Festival; Warren down in Tucson took plenty of pictures of lighted art in the desert night at Glow 2009-- three posts in all, keep scrolling down. Another site of interest to those of us living in or near the woods: Wildland Fire, home of the wildland firefighter. Next, turn your sights up far into the sky: USA Today has posted a clever flash video showing the International. Space lab and how it has grown, element by element.Last but not least, a treasure trove of Mickey Mouse shorts.

The beauty of back lighting

First, an announcement: this is NOT a post about the arrival of autumn, despite all those brilliant colors. But, the fact is that autumn leaves are excellent examples of just how back lighting enhances subjects that are translucent or transparent.

Two good examples: the maple (above) and the aspen (below). Very simple: the light passing through the leaves emphasizes the color.

In this case, back lighting creates a splash of brilliant red in between much darker greens. The red of the leaves below contrasts with the drab leaves on the ground which are lit with reflected light.


Last year, I became fascinated by the nasturtium. Here are two portraits of a single flower, dark against the bright outdoors (above) and brilliantly back lit (below). In truth, I find it difficult to choose between the treatments. How about you? Which do you prefer, hot or dark?

Virginia creeper, one of this town's major autumn showpieces, goes from drab (above) to brilliant red (below), depending upon the direction of the light. It really needs that sunlight streaming through the leaves.

Even if the creeper has not turned deep red, back lighting hypes the color (above, below).

What greens! Classic ivy glows given the right lighting -- as do the big leaves below.

Ditto for colored glass, whether it's an alien blue sun or colorful, collectible tableware at a McCormick Street antiquery.

Perhaps my most favorite use of transmitted light is the yard ornamentation I found along Gail Gardner one day. The home owner had simply filled big juice bottles with colored water and let the sun do the rest.

Links for the Day: Have you ever had a chance to study the underside of a hummingbird? Boonie caught a fascinating view from beneath; the little guys' tails make them look sorta like shrimp! The current fad for home grown eggs caught the attention of s. weasel, who comments about diapers being sold so that one's beloved family hen can roam the house. Plus: one of our bloggers, Sadira of Foolsewoode, was featured in this article in today's Courier.

Raised garden bounty

Two different friends installed raised garden beds this year -- I could become quite envious as I picture myself weeding while standing up. Besides, look at that tomato jungle at the right hand end (above). The jungle below is likely just one watermelon vine quite at home in a different raised bed, this one next door.

Here's the situation as of August 12: two wee fellows, more the size of large gooseberries than what you expect to eat at a picnic. FYI, that's a hand in the lower right of the picture below, just to give an idea of the size.

Time passed; I took pictures again on Sept. 15; the melons are beginning to grow up.

September 29, my neighbor held up one of the watermelons to show the bald spot, which he has been told is one indication that picking time is almost at hand. My crop this year: the four small cherry tomatoes that were not eaten (along with the foliage) by the javelina. But then I don't have a raised garden, which might discourage the little porkers. I don't even know where I'd put one on my hillside!

Linkage: After I published this post about mini-agriculture, I chanced to visit artistic, mild-mannered Lucy, who lives a quiet life in Brittany (France). Lo and behold, a rant. About French agricultural policies, factory farming and how the seacoasts in her locale are ruined by the heavy fertilizer/nitrogen runoff. And so she demonstrated against seaweed.