Every yard needs a nolina

There are local wild plants that really deserve more attention in local gardens. For example, whenever I see Argentinian pampas grass, I mentally replace it with bear grass. Not quite as lush, to be sure, but then it is far better adapted to our low water regimen.

Above, bear grass in the landscape at a friend's house; below, a wild plant up the hill next door.

Our local bear grass is at its most spectacular when the flowering stems produce masses of honey-colored seeds in late summer, which natives are reported to have ground into a flour. This particular plant is a large wild clump that hangs out over Coronado Street, blooming reliably every year.

Though I have two substantial nolina clumps which I bought many years ago at Watters, I've tried planting the seeds too. Here is one of two success stories. The slow-growing member of the lily family is over 5 years old.

The fibers dangling from the leaves not only make a pretty close-up but also suggest traditional uses. The plant is known as Indian basket plant, because native Americans used the leaves and roots of bear grass to make traditional baskets. Bear grass baskets often integrated materials from other plants to make colorful patterns, and they would have been strong and durable. Some Indians also used bear grass to make protective caps for their heads, according to Wise Geek. Sandals were another use. Incidentally, I shudder at the idea of working with these razor edged leaves without modern protective gloves -- I've no idea how those Indian ladies did it!

Fence styles, part 1: rustic

Fences serve many functions in our world. Often to keep people out or critters in (or vice versa). Sometimes, to simply draw a line around one's property. At other times, primarily to please the eye or to support morning glory vines or honeysuckle.

Out in the countryside, a fence is a practical matter. Interesting, the contrast in this set of ranch fences. On the left, the hard lines of pipe and, on the right, the softer contours of uprights cut from nature. Now for today's question from the naif: what is the purpose of those typical tall ranch gate posts with the high cross piece? I've never understood and nobody has ever bothered to explain.

On close examination, this appears to be an image of what's called a Texas gate, made of barbed wire, stiffened with sticks. Once you open it, you merely lay the fence down on the ground, pass through and immediately do the polite thing, which is to reclose the gate. (That can be hard for small people like me, as you have to pull all those heavy wires pretty dang straight to reach across the opening.)

A slick fence that has to be considered rustic, as it's the work of the Forest Service up at Lake Mary. The close-up of an upright (below) includes wild lavender verbena that is common up here in the mountains in mid-summer.

Suddenly we're in the city, where rustic is a style, not a necessity. Less than a mile from the Courthouse, FYI.

This particular fence really caught my eye the first time that I spotted it. The front lot line (above, below) is delineated by a collection of snags, roots, stumps and other interesting tree bones.

I don't know quite how to characterize this fence; however, I suspect the person who wove a miscellany of sticks among the wire had an artistic vision.

To finish this collection, a touch of faux rustique -- the timbers are varnished and that's one expensive lizard enjoying the sun.

Today's Links: First a couple of changes to my blog roll at right. I've added EatStayPlay.com of Chino Valley and changed the name of RV-Boondocker to the Occupation of Independence, on accounta Boonie has settled down in Silver City NM "until the automobile industry tempts me into replacing my aging, full-sized van with one that gets better mileage. Until then I will stay busy living a car-free life as a local wannabee in the Little Pueblo". Steve Lummer describes the community garden that his church members are growing. Quilted Dogs explains about the garment industry's amazing Size Zero, complete with a video of anorexic celebs. NASA has its own youTube site. And finally, the LA Times tells how we nearly lost the earliest images of our exploration of the moon, emphasizing again the problem of yesterday's abandoned tech.

Fences -- digital or analog?

Living, as we do, in a hilly town, erecting a fence leads to a number of choices,

One can go with what I choose to call digital modules: ready-mades that are put together as stairsteps (above) or analog fences that parallel the slope of the earth (below).

Though I prefer the latter approach, following the lay of the land can lead to another set of problems (above) .

Sunburst plants

Have you ever noticed plants that become sunbursts if you stare at them long enough and in the right way? They are favorites in semi-arid landscapes which I see frquently when I take my local walks; many are natives.


Too bad -- a bunch grass, though quite neat in the ground, is too thatched for its sunburst effect to show up in a photograph.

On the other hand, this plain, everyday weedy crab grass grows into its own small sunburst. The effect is especially effective once the frost has hit (below).

Definitely not a native (in fact photographed in Louisiana last summer) is this cycad. The shape of the plant certainly shouts that it is a close cousin to the pineapple.

Underfoot along Summit

Question: what do we have lots of that's suitable for landscaping Prescott. Water is definitely not the answer. Which might explain all those rocky median strips next such streets as Summit where I took this handful of pictures recently. Quite fascinating, the variety.

This wildly patterned large stone sat in the midst of other, smaller chunks of similar schist.

While a lone quartz stone was a highlight amonst these darker rocks.

Sacred Heart sits well above street level; the slope landscaping uses sandstone in different sizes and shades of red.

Volcanics are popular, in part because of the color but also because, frankly, they are full of air bubbles and thus don't weigh nearly as much as other landscape rocks. You'll see a lot of "boulders" down in Sun City that are easy for an old-timer like me to heft; yes, they originated in certain types of volcanic explosions.

This is a more work-a-day gravel for parking spaces. Not nearly as bright or big as the other ground covering stones. Of course, all these spaces need to be carefully covered with black plastic tarps before dumping and arranging the rocks. Look what happens if you don't (below); Life has a way of finding every possible niche to make a home.

Now, if I may be permitted a bit of cynicism: I seriously doubt that folk (or institutions) are trying to save water when they landscape with stone. I'm sure they expect, instead, a carefree, permanent arrangement that is sufficiently unpleasant underfoot to discourage kids from rough housing or walked dogs from pooping. Almost the only maintenance needed is a blower to remove autumn's crop of leaves. Until. One day, a crack develops in that black tarp and Life reasserts itself. As pesky as it can be, I vote on the side of Life!

The glass landscape

Walking Norris Street as it approached the low water level crossing of Butte Creek, I noticed that there was new ground cover along the Garden Street corner. Looked like salt and pepper, not your usual tan decayed granite gravel. You can see the difference at the top of the picture above.

Intrigued, I moved in closer. Aha. Shattered glass, about the same size as the usual gravel. But clear, with scattered remnants of beer and wine bottles. Even the occasional blue medicine container from the past. The only item missing: glass that has been sitting in the Arizona sun long enough to turn purple. In any event, an interesting use for yesterday's glass. Prescott College turf; it figures.

You must understand that the city does recycle. Some plastics. Cardboard and paper. No glass, however. I'm willing to bet that this bin over at PC's recycling set-up is possibly the only place for abandoned glass in town. After a not-so-quick visit to consult with The Google, I find that recycled glass landscaping is apparently neither that new nor that remarkable; over 133K links. Just new to me. My idea of what to do with used glass? Throw it into a rapids or over a seaside cliff. The one season I lived by the sea down in Florida, finding translucent glass shards was always a thrill! But I guess that mulch will do.

And, speaking of mulch, oh what lovely looking heaps of mulch there were at the PC recycling center. Too bad that there isn't a service one could call to send a chipper with operator around the neighborhoods to return sticks and grass and pine needles to the earth, rather than burning or stashing them forever in a landfill.

Linking: Interesting data on water allocation in Arizona in the Courier. Worth a read.

Old Telephone Poles Never Die...

...they just gradually become one with the earth. In the meantime, a few may serve time in gardens or as part of a small embankment beside a dirt road, like a group of old poles in my neighborhood.


This hole interests me. I wonder who lives here. It appears that the heart of these poles is first to crumble, leaving the outermost section to slowly fall apart.

Linkages: I don't quite understand PrescotteNews or just where it's coming from. It definitely isn't filling the large footprint left behind by the late lamented ReadItHere. On the other hand, there is this very interesting interview with the man who heads up Mayor Wilson's committee on economic development. I'd say he's a bit too focused on the footloose and fancy-free knowledge worker; after all, there's a lot more to Silicon Valley than a bunch of programmers and systems analysts. That's a bit too single-minded. But at least it's a start to thinking in directions other than more retailers and rooftops (and the minimum wage jobs that accompany them). My own opinion? What about industry clusters: small scale aerospace businesses, centered around ERAU ... recreation/environment entrepreneurial operations, centered about Prescott College and the national forest ... you know, a bit of high tech manufacturing plus some software types. And perhaps we should settle the question of just how much like California we want Prescott to become. After all, California is what the Californians, having created California, are now fleeing from; besides, California so Very Yesterday, as some youngsters would say.

Now for some fun. Have you seen the nautilus home? A wonderful change from the usual post-modern architecture. And how about McDonald's as a multi-cultural leader?

Of a Tuesday Afternoon Walk Downtown

Before setting off down the hill, I was determined to get a picture of the long-flowered 4 o'clock seed presentation. What else can one call it? Pretty little cups, each containing a single seed, which will soon roll out and down to the ground.

Approaching the lush garden down at the corner, what should I spot but several butterflies. I have to take back my whining about this year's shortage. All along my walk today, there were great numbers of Painted Ladies -- almost as if they were suddenly coming into bloom. Was I wrong about the lack of butterflies? Had I missed them because I refused to take the long walk downtown in the summer heat? I've no idea.

As ever, there were lost things. I really hope that Luna was found. As for the Easter egg, I wonder if it's been missing since spring.

I chose the little cliff path that connects upper and lower Beach Street. It's an area that's been home to the homeless, to teen-age trysts, to heavy drinking and, yes, to an expanding agave plant complex. Originally, this stretch was public right-of-way, but I was told the city had ceded the land to one of the nearby property owners, presumably the United Methodist Church. Whoever is the new owner is now asserting their rights. Wonder what precipitated the sign below: a real incident or the lawyer warning of potential lawsuits.

It's a pretty, sylvan spot oh so close to the Square! I'm especially fond of the stone wall, all that remains of an old house that overlooked the path for many years.

Downtown, a pause to admire the rooftop garden of El Gato Azul. The owners have landscaped nicely on the ground, too. Further along, on Granite Street, my day was completed by this unexpected chair at Fancy That. Ah, paisley! I've sung its praises before. And will again.