B&W -- almost

It's only natural and to be expected that after my paean to color, my next major photo op would turn out to be nearly black and white. Oh, all right, grey-green and white, mostly. You see, we are enjoying the fruits of a proper El Nino winter, which means periodic snow storms. Which should result in wonderful early spring wild flowers down in the desert elevations. If you peer closely, you'll see a touch of brown (the scrub branches) in the picture above -- and, of course, the yellow shout of heavy earth moving equipment below.

The decorative schist along the driveway came closest to the real black and white that I claimed in the title. The wormy looking snow below was the result of a tree that was busy shrugging off its snow load.

Above: a tree shadowed the stones here; below, one day later, much of the white stuff has melted away.

The clearing sky lends a slight blue tinge to the upper corner of this screen scene.

More storm aftermath

A crane looked out over Park Avenue this afternoon. A downed tree, my neighbor told me, urging friend Patty and me to cut the Scrabble game short and hie out to the car to go take a look. Which we did. The view from the alley showed 1) a lop-sided Arizona cypress that appeared to have lost most of its limbs on the left side and 2) another cypress whose upper trunk may have been broken off.

Here's the scene on the Park Avenue side of the historic mansion. As best we could tell, a huge trunk was squashing a car that's hiding behind the crane. If you peer past the crane (below), you might get a better view of the tree that lost the top of its trunk -- a side show to the main action.

This is the downed tree trunk -- and, below, the remaining stump.

Piles of slash all over the place -- and firewood for the taking (below). When did the tree topple? No idea, but I'm sure that the high winds earlier this week played a major role.

Those winds did a job on a shed at our cottage down in Wilhoit, as well. The roof blew into the lot next door, the former walls were all over the place...

And file cabinets that haven't been opened since the LH and I moved to Arizona were left standing, lonely, in the cold. Thanks to Chris for the photos.

Storm finishes that broken oak

It was very recently I wrote of the broken tree down the street, noting that despite the crack spiraling up the trunk, there was still a substantial canopy (below) and that I wouldn't be surprised to see the same tree hanging in there 10 years from now. That's the way of many trees with a strong life force, especially tough little oaks.

Oh, how wrong I was! Our Monday night storm, which combined snow, hurricane force wind gusts, plus thunder and lightning was too much for big robust Ponderosa pines, that crashed into streets, power lines and porches around town. Why should we expect this crippled Emory oak to survive such an onslaught. It didn't, as the pictures taken by my neighbor make quite clear. It was simply too much of a storm.

Up the hill, I worried the wind might blow in my big picture windows; however, the only suffering at Chez GrannyJ (aside from cold feet) was the electric outage that lasted much of the night. Now another two El Nino storms are headed this way -- while my bro, in Perth on the west coast of Oz, reports that he's suffering from the back side of the same El Nino, which means drought.

Rainy day patterns

We've had a couple of rainy days this September. Not nearly enough, though all it takes is one good rain to set the stage for pictures. And to answer your question, yes, that is Granite Mountain in the background.

Between the camera and the porch railing: above, glass, and below, screen. I especially like the rivulets that formed on the screen.

There is a hint of Granite Mountain beyond the screen (above). For some reason, the rain drops on the screen below appear to be opaque white dots.

And here are more rain drops, in this case on the glass door. For the record, I certainly hope that our current El Nino brings us a wet enough winter to make up for some of this year's drought.

Is Jimena another Octave?

Synchronicity strikes again! Honestly, I wasn't thinking of Hurricane Jimena, currently hurling itself at the Baja peninsula, when I posted a link about Arizona catching the leavings from Pacific hurricanes every few years. After reading Azlaydey's comment about the Skull Valley Store this morning, I thought about 1) how maybe it would be interesting to check out the the current situation and 2) how weird it all was when Octave's tailings landed here in back in 19aught83.

So there you have (above) the projected path of Jimena, as of 11:30 p.m. EDT Monday, courtesy of Wunderground. Pointing smack dab in our direction. However, Ken Clark, the Accuweather blogger, has this to say, what happens to Jimena past Wednesday [when it hits Baja]? The interaction between the land and cooler waters should quickly diminish the strength. But moisture will continue to spread north. What is not easily answered right now is how far north will that moisture get. Computer models are not that impressive with moisture over southeast California or Arizona on Thursday or Friday. They very well could be wrong. But one thing we have to consider is that there will still want to be a ridge in place between a storm moving through the Northwest and the remains of Jimena and that ridge may be over portions of southern California and Arizona blocking a lot of the northward advance of moisture.

There was nothing like such a protective ridge when Octave came our way. LH and I were living in Wilhoit the other side of the Prietas at the time. We slept soundly the night it arrived, unaware that there had been a major storm. Little did we realize as we drove up the winding road from Kirkland to Skull Valley the next morning that the road might not be there the next time we tried it -- or that the flash flood had undercut the railroad tracks on the other side of the big wash. Imagine our amazement when we arrived at the Skull Valley Cafe to be told that they weren't open, that there had been 14 inches of rain on the west side of Granite Mountain, and that there were a two or three of feet of mud in the Skull Valley Store , which had recently been bought by a young couple. They were wiped out, we were told.

And so we headed to Prescott, still hoping for breakfast. As we left Skull Valley and headed up into the hills, we hit a patch on the highway where it looked as though water had washed across at some point. Reality was that water, several inches deep, was still crossing the highway. Everywhere. The hillside was still draining. Once we arrived in Prescott, it was almost impossible to find an open restaurant because the gas mains had been shut for fear of a break. Also, we were told that Iron Springs Road had nearly been taken out by flooding on Willow Creek. The final blow from Octave was that a railroad bridge north of town was washed out; as a result, the Santa Fe decided it didn't have enough business to bother repairing the damage and Prescott was without rail service from that time forward. However, the track along Skull Valley Wash was quickly repaired; a good thing, too -- roads in the area were in such bad condition that the rancher at the Bar-U-Bar could only get out by hitching a ride into Skull Valley on the Santa Fe.

So we wait and see. In the meantime, we are finally getting some rain.

Rainshadow

WOW! An entire blog entry dedicated just to me. Just because I cursed the fickle weather gods every time that Catalyst posted beautiful pictures of beautiful August clouds. All I could think of, looking at those clouds, was the rain they were not delivering. And so this morning, CatA posted scrumptious pix of water. Water falling from the sky, not only in Prescott Valley, but here in Prescott. Complete with dedication. It was reasonably good magic; we had several showers at my end of town. No downpour, but more than a trace.

If we had received a really good amount of moisture, I could not have taken these pictures of double shadows on my street. If you look carefully, you will see the standard dark shadows cast by the sun, when it reappeared. But those lighted areas? Those are the rain shadows cast by the tree canopies, holding back the raindrops.

The great tall Ponderosa pine down the street casts a rather small rainshadow. A bit more rain and those "shadows" would have been completely wiped out. Below, the pattern left on the roadway by a passing car.

By the time I took my walk this afternoon, about the only relic of the earlier rain was this puddle on a cement parking lot..

However, it was sufficiently cloudy this morning to persuade my fancy new morning glory to stay open most of the day. Seeds for that particular beauty were sent me by both my son-in-law and my daughter-in-law. I thank them -- and in thanks for his post, dedicate the picture to Catalyst.

HOT!!!

I haven't the energy for a more elaborate post. I'd like to join the cat (below).

Our summer temps up in the Arizona mountains tend to be somewhat weird during our monsoon weather. This year, the mornings are blazing hot. Not, to be sure, Phoenix-style deadly hot, but in the upper 90s. Hot enough that the Max cat has given up patrolling the neighborhood and instead stretches out on the floor near my computer chair.

Our rain storms, which we've now had four days in a row, come in the late afternoon or early evening. One day I caught this brilliant sunset to the east (the only direction my windows face.) And then the temps drop forty degrees for a pleasant sleep.

I guess the moisture has brought out one of the new neighborhood frogs. Neighbor, in whose pond we parked the metamorphosing tadpoles, says he searched a week to locate one of the little fellows, found him on the side of his house. Presumably near the pond. Note the suction pads on the critter's feet; he's an Arizona canyon tree frog.

Weird weather worries...

It was raining when I woke up in the middle of the night. And today, we had a nice rain in the middle of the afternoon. Wunderground predicts a chance of thunderstorms again on Friday and Saturday. Not until next Tuesday do the weather seers mention clear -- and still they hedge their bets: mostly.

No doubt you are saying to yourself, "so what's got GrannyJ all uptight about everyday weather?" Unless you are an Arizonan. In which case, you are well aware that through the last half of May and most of June, the skies in our state are supposed to look like the picture above. Blue. Cloudless. Even a mile high in the central mountains, we can expect to fry in June. The normal schedule calls for the summer rains to arrive early to mid-July.

But in the year of our Lord 2009, our late spring skies have looked more like this,,,

...this...

...and even this. What is more, at our elevation, the temperature is pretty directly correlated to the cloud cover. Meaning that our late spring has been unusually cool. We haven't fried as we are meant to.

I shouldn't complain, really. But in one's old age, one secretly likes things to be orderly. I wouldn't be so concerned if the sunspots hadn't nearly disappeared. Furthermore, the earth' magnetic field is diminishing, and the solar wind is slowing down or thinning out or something untoward. Such matters tend to make me nervous. Tell me I needn't worry.

Time for Links: Another local blog for the likes of me -- the Retiree Connection, primarily featuring volunter opportunities. Ron at Walking Ft. Bragg took a four day hike along an excursion railroad line up in NoCal; way to go, Ron! Tombo was up near Seligman, where he caught a picture of an unexpected grazing animal. And s.weasel who recently moved to England has a public icon puzzle she invites you to interpret.

Critters & cars in the snow

This is what was happening while I distracted myself with summer and tire swings in last night's post. It was snowing. All day. Much of the night. Anywhere from six inches to a foot, depending on which part of town you inhabit. A lot more in Flagstaff, of course.

Certainly not enough here to discourage neighbor dog number one, digging for the frisbee (or is it simply a discarded CD? I'm sure which doesn't matter to the playful pup.)

Here's his housemate, also digging in the snow.

Friend Patty sent pix Bob took of two of their dogs romping as the white stuff fell...

...as well as the neighborhood ravens they feed on a regular basis.

This is the scene I caught from my kitchen window later in the day. The driver of this car was determined to make it up our little hill. He tried backing in, failed...

...and went around the corner get a better start...

...this time driving up headed forward...

...and had to back out again. I didn't count the number of tries; all I can report is that he didn't make it. "This is the worst snowstorm that DPS has ever had to deal with in Northern Arizona," said Cmdr. Dean Nyhart of DPS's Northern Bureau Highway Division in a press release late Monday afternoon. Huh?


This was the scene this morning after yet more snow overnight. What's more, you should read the comments attached to the Courier story which quoted that overwrought DPS officer. Many much more memorable storms were cited by residents (and not just old-timers, either). I can recall quite a few, myself.

However, the mailman didn't even try driving up our street, but delivered on foot this morning.

Max thought he could explore the new white terrain next the porch by climbing up on it. Didn't work and, turning around immediately, he must have decided that his window perch in a warm house was preferable.

This being Arizona, the sun was already working its magic by this afternoon, though a heck of a lot of snow remains on the ground -- and we're promised another big storm next week. Ah well, it's great for the crops.

Linkage: Sometimes, I get the feeling that Prescott is just too tidy a little town. That's especially the case after visiting Chatoyance, who finds awesomely seedy (but highly photogenic) scenes in the obscure backwaters of Texas. Take her NO PARKING -- SAXOPHONIST front porch -- you wouldn't find anything that outre even in Bumblebee or Cleator. On the other hand, wonderful things do happen here. Thanks to Jarart at Prescott Area Daily Photo, I have learned that not only were the stained glass windows from the chapel at the old Mercy Hospital saved when the hospital burned in 1940 -- but they now have a home in Prescott Valley.