Spring is a short interlude in Arizona, even in the mountains. April showers? Hah! A handful, if we're lucky. May flowers? Yes, a few, if only because up at our elevation, most early wildflowers are perennials; the annuals usually wait for the summer rains to make an appearance. Many grasses are already turning brown, though I found vivid green on my walk yesterday.
But the grasses are putting their energy into seeds.
Other delightful spring pods, ready to scatter seed for next year.
Periodically, a small plant detail will shout, "Photograph me! Me! Me!" And I can't. Perhaps my body won't contort the right way for the right image. Or the plant may be the sort which invites the breeze -- deadly. At that point, I may decide it's time for "snip" and a session on the kitchen table top. Such was the case with the late season goldenrod seed pompoms. Pretty little things, about 1/2 - 3/4 inch in diameter, packed tightly together.
In the process, I discovered that the stems had a front and a back side. Further, that the back side presented a more elegant arrangement. Did I mention that, having read my Canon's manual, I now know how to work its macro setting, with results that aren't half bad. Obviously, I should do a little more reading and less whining.
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.
What's to be seen on an afternoon's walk? Sights that range from the sublime (seed pod, above) to the, well, mundane problems of every day living (below.)
To report: the weather was springlike; the locale, two alleys and Grove Avenue. (I've always wondered about that name -- was it descriptive of beautiful old trees long gone for wider streets or was it dedicated to a city father (or land developer)?
There was this sign on an alley door; particularly poignant to one who spent her school years in Jacksonville, Florida, where the Seaboard was an important institution.
And, just beyond an alley fence, a tree the surgeons had thoroughly lollypopped. Yet come summer, it will be leafy green and no one will be the wiser.
At the credit union over on Grove Street, the landscape gravel had been carefully raked and carelessly walked upon. But the circle was deliberate. A first cousin of graffiti, I'd say.
I finally got reasonably good pictures of Gene Galazan's latest junkyard horses, part of the recent landscaping at Prescott College. More details in a later post.
Between the sidewalk and the pavement, rocks describe a small watercourse -- the land is slanting toward Butte Creek here.
OK, I couldn't resist doing an arty shot. In fact, I made several pictures of similar plants.
One of the nice things I've discovered about citified aspens is that graffiti artists leave them alone. No initials or hearts -- or historic carvings by Basque shepherds -- on these young trees over at Prescott College.
Now here's something you don't see very often in a mountain town -- an ultra-lightweight racing bike. The standard Prescott bicycle has a beefy frame and fat tires, the better to cope with rocky mountain trails hereabouts.
Which mountains still keep Butte Creek running nicely.
At the CVS drug store on Miller Valley, spring has been declared. I couldn't figure out what purpose the items above serve except to transmit colored light. The plastic angels, of course, are for this year's garden.
I'm more inclined to rely on the ravens than a drugstore marketing man to tell me when spring is on the way. This pair was billing and cooing on a high lamppost; can you imagine these big, raucous birds as a romantic couple? I would expect that the courthouse ravens are already nesting, by the way.
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