Timepieces: postscript

Inevitable, isn't it, that as soon as you hit the publish button and retire for the night you remember several excellent examples and ideas that should have been included? All right in your own house? Not that I could have changed a thing -- the power went down at about 10:30 p.m. in a windy snow storm last night and wasn't switched back on until several hours later in the dark of early morning.

However, today I opened a little used drawer and found two watches which should have been included in last night's post. You will note that Chairman Mao (above) presided over a clock face 1) with nary a number and 2) with a red star atop the second hand. One of these was given to every member of my tour group to China back in 19aught80. We arrived in China at a time when little blue uniforms were still worn by all citizens (silk or fine wool for the masters, wash cotton for the masses), all the shoes were black cotton Mary Janes and the country was just opening to tourists from the capitalist west.

Quite in contrast, the Lady Elgin was given me by my Phoenix grandmother when I graduated from Phoenix College back in the 40s. In those days, a good watch was a valued treasure and there was little competition from the dime stores. (To judge from my spam mail, I gather that there is still a market for snob watches.)

And then, on the mantelpiece there sits the xerox clock, a project of passing interest to my late husband. The works (below) are for real, the temporary face was a paper copy that was never replaced by the real thing. The eagle is removable, but lends an air of grandeur to the enterprise.

Bavarian Squirrels: Steve, who is a regular commenter here at Walking Prescott, has been providing nuts for and photographing the squirrels who abound in his village. They all are beautiful animals, with great tufted ears, but he has one (to me) rather remarkably colored critter he calls Coal. Coal is a black squirrel, what one might call a "tuxedo squirrel", which is totally new to me. Today's post gives a good series of pictures of all three of his current visitors.
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Tick-tock

Precision measurement of time and space is a major underpinning of Western civilization, though I'm sure that those who are aware of this are few. Clocks are so ubiquitous in our world that we take them quite for granted. I'm one of those who doesn't even bother to wear a time-piece. (I got out of the habit when young, back in the days when one had to remove a watch when washing dishes or your hair or when showering.)

They are ubiquitous here in Prescott, as well, as I discovered picking out selections from my huge iPhoto folder. They range from the classic (above, complete to two mice who ran up the clock) I photographed in a collectibles shop to a wide variety over at the Miller Valley True Value (below).

Many more are on the shelves at WallyMart West (above, below), including one that should be donated to Sue Ann's Apple Pan.

This is a much grander clock awaiting auction at Batterman's several months ago; I wonder how much it fetched.

Apparently public time pieces arrived after individual clocks and watches were well established, according to historian Bernard Lewis. I doubt if any public clocks in America compare to the the astronomical clock on the side of Prague's Old Town Hall Tower, which dates back to the 15th century. Back when I was employed, I was lucky enough to join the crowd in front of the tower to observe the procession of the twelve apostles: on the hour, every hour, a small trap door opens and Christ marches out ahead of his disciples, while the skeleton of death tolls the bell to a defiant statue of a Turk. And, according to Lewis, the Ottomans did not adopt such infidel mechanisms as the clock until much later in their history, when it was realized how far behind the West their empire had fallen.

In the West, on the other hand, the symbolism of the two hands and their positions is sufficiently ingrained that you will find clocks that eliminate even the four numbers above. Whenever I see such a clock abstraction, my immediate inclination is to give it a good 90 degree twist, either left or right, leaving it to the owner to figure out why his machine isn't telling the correct time.

I also disapprove of the type of digital timepiece above. Whereas the classic round dial puts the current time into a context of past, present and future, the digital time readout is one more version of modern instant gratification. It implies neither tomorrow or yesterday, dealing only with Right Now. Relegate such a devices to timing a race or cookies baking in the oven, a proper use.

Woodman, spare that snag!

City folk -- and suburban people, as well -- have no use for snags, those dead outlines of trees that used to be. In fact, in civilized locations, if a tree is failing, the arborist is quickly called in for last rites. It's all a matter of tidiness (and perhaps a desire not to be reminded of one's own mortality).

Admittedly, thanks to our drought and the bark beetle infestation, we currently have more than our share of snags in the woods.

I've no idea what caused this forest of snags, which I discovered in a download of my Sson's photos from the Gulf Coast. But the image does demonstrate why naturalists recommend saving dead tree bones -- I count at least three large nests. And here, below, is a closeup of one tenant -- an osprey on lookout duty.

Until recently, this was a tall pine down near Crown King. A dead tree like this eventually becomes the sort of snag that makes an excellent home for an eagle's nest (thanks to friend Bob for this picture below).

Winter Links: The dotter has a new camera, which she has been exercising with scrumptious Alaskan seasonal pictures; take a look. Hoarded Ordinaries meditates on how drab December is before the snow arrives, while Dagny points her camera at a leafless winter tree.

Walt Disney flies again

So over at Albertson's there was this new batch of balloons, which included some quite Disney-ish looking items, such as that castle and, on closer examination, Snow White herself. Being of a suspicious nature, I figured that there was a reason -- a commercial one -- for Snow White to be popping up in public around Christmas time. I promptly hied myself over to Amazon to check on the DVDs and discovered, to no surprise, that the Disney folk have just released a new edition of their pioneering feature-length cartoon. (The last time it was released was in 20-aught-2. That's a pretty good life span.)

I suppose that it's a good thing to keep DVDs of films such as Snow White and the Wizard of Oz and Shirley Temple's Little Princess in print. That way, today's kids, inundated with modern children's books and cartoons coming out the kazoo, will be familiar with a handful of the classics. It's too bad that so much new (and so much of it so bad) muscles out the old stories that provided a bridge between generations. I recall what fun I had putting together a wonderful library of children's classics for my dotter, assembled from visits to resale shops and rummage sales and 2nd hand bookstores. The only old books that I never found in these venues were the Oz books, but then I had my own collection to pass along. Of course, none of these old books would pass muster under that recent law passed by our thoughtful folk in Congress -- there might just possibly be something toxic in the ink that would poison a toddler who consumed, say, the entirety of that library I collected. Sigh.

Waiting for the auction?

Well used, vintage vehicles spotted in the Batterman's auction house parking lot.

The sedan is anchored; its tires were flat as a pancake. Right and to the rear of the sedan, a Jeep, another elderly pickup and it looks like two utility vehicles, as well, hiding behind the truck. Surely they don't drive those any of those babies onto the auction floor?

Come on, baby, light my fire

Brr! The AccuWeather blogger is predicting back-to-back winter storms next week, storms of an El Nino persuasion. We might even get a wee bit of moisture in Arizona. Further, he suggests that at last, we might be in for the usual long series of storms we expect in El Nino years.

Today the cold really arrived. When my companions and I arrived at the Lynx Lake restaurant for breakfast this morning, we were greeted by this wonderful, warm fire.

The fireplace is made from local schist; unfortunately, in getting this picture, the flash overpowered the flames!

Another major feature of the restaurant. Too bad this massive hearth has been turned into furniture; can't you imagine a fire or even a gas log in that empty space? I have wondered if this piece was imported from Europe by the German couple who own the restaurant and store. The pictures below show details; enjoy.

But wait! There's one more fireplace out at the Lynx Lake emporium -- the biggest honking chimenea I've ever seen. It's a new addition to the outdoor eating facilities.

Pretty Pictures, a Crazy Cat & Other Links: Neat picture of peeling manzanita branches from Karoliina; Del, up in Flag got his camera extra close to a great horned owl. Next, mosey on over to Catalyst, who is showing the weird way a French cat has figured out to drink its fill of water; thanks, Cat-A for posting the clip so I could link to it. The last link is for the bicycle enthusiast; Avus is the proud owner of a 60s Rudge-Superbe, a gentleman's bicycle. He recounts its story, accompanied by detailed images.

The rest of the glass

Last night, I said that I had more stained glass in the folder. Here it is, a highly varied lot.

First stop, a follow up visit to the American Lutheran Church, whose glorious Art Deco sunburst stained glass I blogged early in 2008. The luscious grapes (above) are details from one of two panels that flank the church entrance. Below are sections from a tall panel that lights a staircase to the sanctuary.

My mind is a total blank regarding this stained glass object; I remember neither the occasion or the place, though the actual photograph declares that it must be in the modern condo at the SE corner of Gurley and McCormick -- unless it was a weird angle from Bashford House. Be that as it may, there it is -- more stained glass.

Last night, I mentioned small windows near the roofs of old Victorian houses. Here's an example from a modern Victorian; not quite as much fun as the stained glass frog in another of the houses built at the same time. BTW, knowing that the houses in question were built in the 19-aught90s, it's entirely possible that these are plastic rather than glass, as suggested by Steve in his comment yesterday.

These two pictures hang in the window out at the Lynx Lake Store/Restaurant. (Of course, I dedicate the cat to Catalyst.) You could probably find all the pretty birds (below) here in Prescott except for the cardinal. Curious -- we often saw the R.E.D. birds just the other side of the Prietas down in Wilhoit but they don't appear to have come up the White Spar as yet. Plenty of them down in Phoenix.

The Prescott College coffee shop is where I saw the panel above, dedicated to agriculture in both the developed and the Third World. As for the elegant coffee table below, it's home was one of the many antique/collectible shops around town. (Oh, bother, GJ -- you need to go back to Oatmeal's Apostrophe Comics for a review. That should read "its home".)

Alternate Transportation: Who needs to spend money with the Middle East when you've got in-line skates? Imagine this on the White Spar.

Sharlot's stained glasses

In a long gone world in which the pace was much slower and labor costs were far lower, a stained glass window or transom (or two or three) was just one more feature of a proper Victorian home. For example, Bashford House over at the Sharlot Hall Museum.

The ground floor of Bashford House is occupied by a museum shop absolutely full of tempting goodies. Among other items, it features stained glass, modern style, that is, as art object. The bright light of the solarium makes it just the right location to highlight the brilliance of these panels, for example, the pretty birds below. (I will forgive the artist for an eastern blue jay instead of a proper scrub jay or Steller's jay to keep the theme local.)

The circular plate above would have suited one of those little high windows in an old house, while the design below is just right for a transom.

Ah, morning glories (above) in a form that isn't illegal in Arizona. And, below, the critter who was created just to be memorialized in stained glass, the butterfly.

But then if ever I had my choice, I'd be hard put to decide between the very brilliant (and R.E.D.) poppies and those smug cats. Either would fit right in with that river boat that I didn't buy yesterday (see post below).