A pretty little dam...

...sits astride Lynx Creek upstream from the south end of the lake as you drive back out toward the Walker Road. Usually, there is a only small amount of water a couple of inches deep behind the dam. Thanks to all the welcome rain/snow we've had, water is pouring over. If you look closely, you'll even see the miner panning for gold on the near bank.

This stretch of Lynx Creek has been dedicated to the casual gold prospector -- unlike most of our public lands, which may be claimed for exclusive use (and most of them are, already).

At this point, I should confess -- not feeling up to the climb down to and up from the stream, I handed my camera to the dotter to take these pictures. She did a neat job, I'd say.

The water was making bubbles -- when it wasn't freezing.

I guess everyone -- well, at least some others -- were out looking at water cascading over local dams. After all, this is drought country and water over the dam is not a casual matter. In any event, on Sunday Tombo, Sadira and Rich all took pictures of Granite Creek topping the big dam at Watson Lake. And on the weekend, our little family of three couldn't resist photographing water-over-the-dam at Granite Basin and Lynx Lakes. I find myself wondering what about the Big Chino out at Sullivan Lake.

Note on Mom: Please take a moment to read the dotter's blog about missing Mom. She has expressed my feelings (and those of my bro) so well -- I couldn't begin to wrap the words around the subject as sensitively as she has. Thank you, OmegaMom!

Interlude: we played

The past four days I have been blessed with my children. The dotter flew in from Alaska to help me with the arrangements and paper work that follow a death in the family; sson was still in AZ and changed his flights to spend time with me and his sister. The pair drove back to Sky Harbor early, early this morning and already I miss them a lot. I was pampered royally!

We did take time off this weekend to get away from the melancholy of the moment with visits to Granite Basin and Lynx Lake. I'll post photos later -- perhaps tonight or tomorrow.

And today, my computer returned home -- minus about a year's worth of photographs, my email address book, and bookmarks! On the other hand, the motherboard is new and on the Apple people. I will back up. I will back up. I will back up.

Butterflies & Roses

In my world, butterflies are pretties for decorating & holding papers on the refrigerator. I hadn't realized how relevant they might be to my current life situation when I photographed the butterfly collection on display at the Samaritan Village (below) the last time I visited my mother there.

At the funeral home I saw more butterfly art on the walls and inquired the reason. It was explained that the background of the home was basically Christian and that these were symbols to indicate that affiliation while not making people of other faiths uncomfortable. According to The Google, the butterfly symbolizes the soul and/or resurrection.

I looked at the display with new understanding when the Dotter and I visited the Village to collect Mom's personal effects. Her garden gloves and plaque were still on the door to her room, though her name plate had been removed.

And on her empty bed was a single red rose. A lovely tribute by the nursing home staff.

Unexpected bronzes

It's an unusual collection of bronzes, especially for a funeral home. But then, this is the West. And what could be more historically western in Prescott than the Ruffner name! After making arrangements for Mom at Wakelin-Ruffner, I took these pictures. Saddles. And more saddles.They make rather strange-looking objects without an intervening horse!

There were quite a few name-brand cowboy and western bronzes, as well.

And, at the entrance, this splendid Uncle Sam. I know Mom would have liked him -- and would have then spent a few minutes figuring out how to make a better one. There was also much butterfly art on the walls; I'll talk about that tomorrow. In the meantime, the funeral home has posted a my brief biog of Mom here. BTW, I miscounted the number of great grandchildren -- it's 8.

Mom is Gone

I got the call last night at about 9 p.m. She died quietly, in her sleep, as she wanted, though she lived longer than she wished -- she was very, very tired. A remarkable woman, Mom lived two months past her 104th birthday. Somehow, I had expected her to live forever. I had one final visit with her yesterday.

Note: In case you haven't read it already, the dotter wrote a lovely tribute to her grandmother, my Mom, back in December.

Footfall

One practical use of the snow: a way to track visitors. For example, a lone javelina (above), though I'm surprised at the drag marks.

More unusual -- an invasion, well, at the least, a family of racoons who left three distinct trails.

One trail was two or three individuals who headed up my stairs and thence on up the hillside.

Another group headed for my back porch/grotto and thence disappeared.

Here are the coon's footprints with a proper measure. Neighbors immediate hurried to their koi pond upon seeing all the evidence of raccoon. And while I saw plenty of snow paws of cats and dogs, there was sign neither of chipmunk nor vole.

Blog Notes: I missed other reports on our Sunday/Monday snow. Be sure to check in with The One Acre Wood & Dagny's Desk; Photos from Prescott focused on ice.

The snow arrived

Not nearly as much (1 foot) as promised, but certainly enough to tempt the photographer. In fact, a fair amount of our precips arrived as rain. Any and all moisture welcomed, of course.

The snow does wonders for dried grasses and Ponderosa pine trunks.

It tells you about the brief play of a man and his house dog..

...as well as what happens between car and snow.

It even let me know of a stranger, coming down the hill. The paw prints looked more or less like a cat out hunting in the cold.

Even Max had to inspect the new surface of his usual haunts. He quickly turned around and returned to the warm indoors. Our mountain bloggers luxuriated in the snow -- Cat-A, Rich, Foolsewoode all posted pictures-- and there was even a report from the high desert. In the meantime, I'm happy to report that not only are my shut-in days about over, but I will be getting my Real Computer back on Thursday. Oh, how I've missed PhotoShop and my DVD reader and... and... walking!

Control burns -- a necessary evil

Living in a world that is always on the verge of drought, one becomes very, very sensitive to the sight of smoke. When we first moved to the Prescott area, we lived on the other side of the Prietas, in Wilhoit. The settlement is in the foothills, with an incredible view of valley, mountains and mesas. The smoke curling from a single fire was visible for miles.

The threat in Wilhoit was brush fires; here in Prescott, it is a very large, very dry national forest verging right into town on two sides. Control burns are an important tool of the Forest Service in getting rid of dead brush, needle litter and other flamable tinder; currently, some 8000 acres near town are scheduled for burning in 2008. Though these usually take place in the autumn, when wind direction and other factors are optimal, part of the burn took place in January. I caught these pictures looking south about a month ago. The sight of all that smoke is frightening, even though one is aware that the fire is, presumably, under control. Better this way than Nature's way!

Not your usual Arizona

If all goes according to the soothsayers, we shall have moisture tonight and tomorrow, either as rain or very likely as snow. KNAU was talking one foot of snow for Kingman. Kingman, yet! Surely they were kidding; Kingman doesn't have the necessary elevation. Whatever happens tonight, by late this afternoon, the skies had already turned that chilly grey which precedes Serious Weather.

This is the sort of weather that kept Phoenix in water all those years before the tap on the Colorado River was opened between 1968 and 1993, when the Central Arizona Project canal was finally completed. Previously, almost every drop of water for our great winter playground came from the Arizona mountains.

The mountains are an Arizona that many winter visitors seldom see -- or take seriously. Naifs, they are quite likely to motor up to the Grand Canyon in their golf shorts, only to discover that the rim, at 7000' elevation is as cold as Minneapolis or Chicago or the Dakotas. (The north side of the canyon, another 2000' higher, is not open to the public in winter. If, indeed, they could get in through the deep snow!)

But these pictures, taken on a drive down the White Spar last weekend, show our mountains as they are not often seen, even by locals! As a rule, our heavy weather shows up, does its raining or snowing and moves on; almost immediately, we enjoy sunshine even as we shiver. If it weren't for the shade of forest and hillside, the snow wouldn't last long enough to fill the reservoirs later in the season. The drive was lonely -- few cars had ventured out -- and it was quite other-worldly!

What's up overhead?

Answer: ceilings, of course; some make lovely patterns. Especially if the sun plays its part, as it does in the front lobby at Samaritan Village NH, where I often sit visiting with Mom. This is a morning location; by early afternoon, the light is no longer transmitted through the shade...

...and it's time to look in the other direction where light fixtures and fans are the players.

Here is a different ceiling, this across the street at the church. Without the fans, the patterns aren't quite as interesting.

Additions & Subtractions: I've removed a couple of blogs from the blogroll at right -- nothing was happening! And there are several newcomers. Locally, an educator concerned with using low-cost computers as a learning tool ... a Prescott woman who writes of adjusting to vision loss ... and an enthusiastic & flamboyant weaver. Also new: An Alaskan adjusting to life in the big city (Atlanta.) Read and enjoy.

Later & At Your Service: Mr. RV-Boondocker-Explorer (see comments) wondered what the pix would look like turned upside down. Ho-kay -- here are two of them. I'd say that the first of the pair doesn't look that outlandish and, thus, is a failure for the imagination. However, the second bears a certain relationship to a Hollywood vision of a high-tech nightmare. You can picture our heroine running between those knife-edged fans, pausing briefly to fire her blaster at the alien hordes on the hunt.