...good neighbor-hoods.
My late husband and I moved to the Prescott area in the early 80s. A Chicago native, my husband was smitten by the mountains, the scenery -- and, of course, the ROCKS!
You have to understand that the rocks you find in the Chicago region are small, few and far between, left behind when the Ice Age glaciers receded. There are a couple of limestone outcroppings in the city, rare and important enough as landmarks to actually bear names, such as Stony Island. By far the exception for a city that is sitting on a couple hundred feet of clay.
So, when LH arrived in AZ, he couldn't resist picking up pretty rocks, interesting rocks, or everyday rocks each time we went on an excursion. I had lived in the state as a youngster in the 30s and again in the 40s, so I was a little more picky. Needless to say, backpacks, the car floor and the yard were quickly weighted down by collections. Rocks of all sorts.
And whenever we had a guest from Illinois, it was rocks, rocks & more rocks -- until it was time to pack for the airplane, when reality set in. We, of course, were saddled with a bunch more rocks.
But all by way of introduction.
Because it's obvious that earlier Prescott people were also into rocks, for a more practical reason -- damn fine building material, right at hand. When you walk or drive around the town and older summer resort areas, such as Mountain Club or Walker, keep your eyes open for the wonderful stone cottages, outbuildings and fences.
For a great display of stone fences of various stripes and materials, I recommend a walk along Park Avenue. Because this street was carved into a hilly area full of granites, most houses starting at Gurley Street, heading south, feature a rock fence or retaining wall. Styles vary and in some cases, shaped blocks of granite are used. (As for the granite, I presume it's of local origin, though I've never been able to locate a one-time granite quarry on any of the area USGS topo quads.)
A problem: not all of those "retaining walls" that bound a front yard a few feet above the sidewalk were built as such. So I learned one day from an elderly mason. He was repairing one of those stone walls, which had suffered a breach after the water load in the soil uphill proved too heavy.
He researched old records and pictures, which showed that, when built, many of the walls were actually fences (to keep the local kids out -- Lincoln School is nearby.) The yards behind some of the fences sloped up to the houses. It was only later that people decided that level -- or less sloped yards were the Thing to Do (and easier to mow.)
Of course, some of the walls front yards that are high -- because the site is higher than street level. These are likely to incorporate boulders which were already there.
But take a look for yourself. The variety is to great to include here.
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!
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