The view from the resort

Having breakfasted at the Hassayampa last week, why not up the hill to the Prescott Resort/Casino, for those great windows overlooking our fair city. So we did just that this morning. Cheapskate tip: I had a classic Continental breakfast of croissant, juice and coffee, just $3.75. Plus another opportunity for panoramic views of Prescott and its mountain vicinity.

Here's an overview of the new SRs 69/89 interchange that you don't get when you're down there hugging the ground. As one who walks (if it's not too strenuous), I'm happy to see nice wide paved sidewalks to the north and the south of the highway spaghetti.

Looking south by southwest across town to Mt. Francis. How did I know? Actually, I made an educated guess based upon seeing communication towers in the picture enlarged. We were suffering smoke from the Woodchute fire and the monsoon moisture streaming into the area; hence the soft, pale colors in today's pictures.

A more southerly view (above) that includes the Peridot as a long roof line at the right. Below, the old Ft. Whipple officer's houses on the grounds of the VA Hospital, taken last December when the dotter and I visited the gingerbread exhibit at the hotel. Today, the grounds below were verdant.

New houses cheek-by-jowl encroach the hillsides looking from the resort parking lot toward Prescott Valley.

I believe the major mountains here are Two Rock and Little Granite; in the enlargement of the picture a highway was visible across the foot of the mountain to the left, possibly Iron Springs Road as it heads toward Skull Valley.

Glassford Hill from the parking lot and a very wispy Woodchute.

A fine angle on a moody, shadowed Granite Mountain, showing the climbers' favorite cliff at the far left, and a different way to see Thumb Butte (below).

Sewing for the 21st century

My mother was my sewing teacher. Although she had a critical eye for detail, her work does not quite measure up to the finishing polish of some of today's seamstresses. Possibly the modern tools and materials make much of the difference.

The samples of the modern craft in this post were on display at the downtown library recently, courtesy of the American Sewing Guild. The intricate folded pieces (above) formed the border for the Japanese lady (below). Also in the picture: a custom-made fashion ensemble and bed jacket.

The exhibit included the beautiful old fashioned machine (above), a modern version (below)...

...as well as the carrying case for yesterday's Singer, at left. The old fashioned doll's dress is just one of hundreds of possible projects for the seamstress.

Here are others: a dress and handbags (above); cute quilted goodies (below).

Me? I haven't sewn anything major since I began my working career. One exception: four years ago when I threw out a lifetime's worth of boring white bedclothes to make way for vivid and wild colors, it was necessary to make three or four pillow slips to fill out the color palette I had in mind. Besides: bet that not many of the modern whiz bang dressmakers know how to make a classic bound buttonhole; I still remember that art from my mother's lessons.

Linkage: There's still a world in which time is a servant, not the master ... where, if you've got 10 years, you can grow a bridge across a stream using aerial tree roots. In our world, where we're still waiting for a proper monsoon season to arrive, we can keep up with weather wonkery focused on the west at one of the Accuweather blogs.

More Professional Decor

I confess to a fascination with office decor, in particular the art found in local offices. Nor am I talking about the insipid, generic factory painting that winds up in hotel rooms. Quite the contrary. My family doctor features excellent, evocative water colors of western subjects painted by his mother; at an audiologists' office, I discovered an interesting photographic enlargement of one of the last Santa Fe trains passing through the Dells. Then there are the fine kachinas and old quilts that make my wait for xrays at Medwise more endurable, not to mention the excellent Indian art collection at the downtown Bank of America.

All of which brings me up to date. My annual checkup came due recently, to be followed by the annual visit to the medical lab for the usual panel of tests. The lobby of Bradshaw Mountain Lab is not a very exciting place to sit as you wait to let blood. However, I did take a closer look at the current exhibit this morning.

Photography, in this case. Furthermore, student photography. High school student work. Prescott High School.

And, as you can see through the transparent wrappings, almost entirely black & white photography, at that. I'm always surprised when the arcane chemistry of silver images resurfaces in this age of the digital everything. Particularly on the part of high school students, who tend to be champions of the latest and disparagers of the old and klunky. Admittedly, there is a grand b&w photo lab over at Prescott College, but then it is part of the art department.

It pleases me that at least a small group of youngsters are serving an apprenticeship in yesterday's arts. Their work will still be around when the lights go out. On the other hand, I served my time in the lab; I'm more than happy with the freedom afforded by the digital revolution.

School bells bring movers...

...though it seems primarily to be DoItYourself here in Prescott. I caught all the pictures on this post Saturday, just before the opening of local schools. Back in my former world, Chicago, rental leases were so tied to the school year that it was almost futile to look for an apartment in any month other than June or September.

The big truck above and the trailer below both appeared to be attached to the same apartment, though I certainly speculated as to what would be loaded on the trailer -- a vehicle, a boat, ???

Even as I was pondering that question, this two-wheeler with a cabinet possibly from a yard sale went speeding by. In another block and a half I spotted the SUV all ready to be moved elsewhere. Obviously not to a dealer for a $4500 rebate; too old; it looks to have done yeoman duty over the years.

And so as I walked down the hill to the museum I found myself wondering where the people were moving to (or from). I pondered whether the real estate market here was tied to the school calendar, which led me to the biggest qustion of all: How come schools are opening their doors so early before Labor Day, which was always the end of official summer when I was a kid and even when the Dotter was a youngster. Is this Part A of a plot to ease the schools into a year-round schedule? Just asking.

Living History: the Ranch House

Ben Hansen and his crew should be happy -- I am totally dependent upon The Courier to keep abreast of events that might inspire interesting posts. And thus I learned of Living History at Sharlot Hall Museum; mind you, I've lived hereabouts more than 26 years, attended many fetes at the museum grounds, but had been completely unaware of the Living History programs. Second Saturday of every month, FYI, from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. Volunteers in period costume to describe life in pioneer days and answer questions.

With a brief respite from the terrible heat, I didn't mind walking down the hill to the museum -- and here's where I started: the Ranch House, one of three small log cabins. It was built in the 30s, under the guidance of Dame Sharlot herself, per the sign below.

Two volunteers were present to answer any questions I might have; I suspect they had a presentation as well, but I was an audience of one, intent upon getting pictures. Hardly the glamour girls of the local Victorian Society or the Shady Ladies, but then the women represented here dealt with more basic matters of survival in an unforgiving wilderness world.

One volunteer decided to step out; she nearly forgot to put on a hat! Bad form...

The table, chair and kitchen cabinets in the background. Note the leather strips that form the seat of the chair.

Isn't that tinwork absolutely the greatest? The piercings allowed a certain amount of air circulation in the cabinet. Below, a food and utensil storage cabinet, including a coffee grinder and simple earthenware containers.

The dry sink.

And look at that honey of a cookstove; I'll bet that corner on the far side of the stove was warm and cozy in the winter! The fireplace (below) supplemented the stove, both for cooking and for heat.

The bedstead, covered with a quilt in the pine tree pattern; below is a braided rug and a sewing/knitting basket. And all this living in one small room.

Alley hollyhocks

For some reson, alleyways are a favorite location for hollyhock volunteers. I haven't figured out any particular reason, but that's definitely the case around Prescott. On the other hand, these bright, old fashioned favorites really do dress up an otherwise dull scene. These two plants are recent comers to the shed down the hill from my place, maybe two years old.

And I must admit that, despite my general disdain for pink, I really, really admire the shading of this blossom. To answer your question, yes, I have collected seeds from these hollyhocks. Do I believe that they will find it as easy to prosper on my property as in that alley? No, nor do I expect them to grow for me without an inordinate dedication on my part.

Linkage: It's mom-and-baby moose time in Alaska; guess what ... the Omegas' veggie garden was devastated once again. Over in Japan, that may enable me to climb Granite Mountain one of these days; the dotter says that parts of the video remind her of the storm troopers in Star Wars.

Breakfast at the Hassayampa

Our intrepid Thursday morning breakfast crew is eating around town currently: two weeks at one restaurant, two weeks at another, with no regular venue. Two basic requirements: seat six or seven comfortably -- and make coffee refills easy. The past two sessions have been at the Hassayampa, in the hotel's classy Peacock Room.

The prices are not as frightening as we had imagined; the food and the service are both excellent, as we had imagined. At least, for breakfast. As I recall, the last time I had dinner at the Hassayampa was a State Occasion and fortunately, I did not have to look at the ticket.

Like the lobby, the restaurant decor harks back to the hotel's beginnings in the late 1920s, i.e., Art Deco. However, these are light touches -- the dining room is not overwhelmed with decor, thank heavens.

Prime examples: a series of etched glass mirrors plus fashion art work from the period. (Which reminds me that in one of my stashes is a collection of a late aunt's student fashion pastels, also from the 20s, which I will scan one of these days Real Soon Now to post. Great stuff!)

Oh, yes, lest I forget, the food. This morning I had lemon souffle pancakes with raspberry syrup. Five bucks a pop. Yummy.