The view from the mall

That is, the view from The Boulders, which is the latest incarnation of the original Prescott mall, out Iron Springs Road. This is the mall I'm most likely to visit, thanks to the PTA bus which will drop me at the door of any of the stores, probably the WallyMart or Tuesday Morning, the latter for a high-end kitsch fix.

Presumably these are the Boulders, for which the mall is named. Don't know how long those scattered, forlorn fences have sat amongst the granites -- no doubt an expression of the dismay that residents, exclusive up at the top of the rocks, felt when the mall was first opened sometime in the 70s. To the northwest of the action, BTW.

Isn't it wonderful how a zoom lens will compact the distance between objects, such as cars in a parking lot or on a highway. That's a reason why I always wondered at the naive acceptance of photographs as evidence back in the pre-PhotoShop days; it was just more difficult to doctor an image back then.

Back to the subject, however. A prime view from the Boulders is the cemetery associated with the Pioneer's Home. One of the historic figures buried there is Big Nose Kate, lady friend of the Earps, if I'm not mistaken.

Then there's the cluster of strange-looking modern buildings to the northeast of the mall, up on a small rise. Hearsay: doctors' offices. Can anybody out there confirm? The mall is at a lower level and that rise was cut away, resulting in a fine example of erosion (below).

Looking to the south, one gets a good view of Mt. Union, the tallest peak in the Prescott region. (Major correction -- that's Mt. Tritle, folks, not the highest of the peaks, but close!) And, below, to the southwest, the tip of Thumb Butte's thumb shows behind nearby granites and that crowded mildew-colored apartment complex at the foot of the hill. (Yes, the buildings are really crowded together even when viewed by the naked eyeball.)

In closing, an excellent view of a set of muscles heading out from the shopping center toward that huge, decorative boulder across the way. As the picture suggests, yesterday was sunny and warm, despite the snow still evident on the north slope of Mt. Union.

Children's art at the library

Today was the third Friday of the month -- meaning a free concert at the local library. No, no musical instrument pictures this time -- my battery supply gave out well before the music started. Besides, a picture of a violin being bowed is much the same, whether it is playing Telemann or Dvorak. However, inasmuch as the concert venue is on the same floor as the children's library, I always peek in to see the current displays as well as Tippy the dinosaur's current costume.

Currently, the feature is a series of shadow boxes and/or mobiles by students at Skyview School depicting scenes from popular children's books. Unfortunately, I'm not up-to-date on the current crop of kid lit, so can't make informed comment on the art; however, I thought that my readers might find it fun.

Apparently, the Warriors series, about cats, is quite popular nowadays. The author of this display made small clay models of all the lead felines in the books. Not all are even showing in this picture...

This month, Tippy the dinosaur is masquerading as a dog; that's what 61 of the children voted for, apparently. Note the tongue, ears, canines and spots, all sure indicators of dog-ness.

Today was also a day to find out about the story teller that always sits on one of the shelves. Turns out the Hopi mudface family was made in papier-mache by Joyce, one of the children's librarians. Very popular, clay story tellers will be found in most Southwestern Indian art and tourist shops.

Missing!!!

He's gone missing! Our own muffler man, who's looked east over Fair Street since at least the 1970s, has vamoosed. When my late husband and I moved to the Prescott area in 1981, he stood there promoting Big Johnson's real estate.

Last year, he had changed loyalties -- after all, the real estate market was beginning its slide. So books became his new promotional line.

Today, I passed by this spot across from Fry's with a friend -- the bookstore was in process of being emptied out and our friendly 30-foot cowboy was no more. Vanished! That's $15-20Gs worth of collectible fiberglass giant gone, folks! He's not listed on eBay -- I've checked there; no muffler men currently listed. The best we can do now is read up on the cult of of the muffler men and keep our eyes peeled for his possible reappearance (if he hasn't skipped town entirely).

Strolling the neighborhood

This week, it is April in March. Not that I object. The world is transformed with the first poppy or the first violets of spring.

Not to mention the daffodils here and there throughout the neighborhood. Javelina-proof, too. In case you weren't aware, bulbs of this classic early bloomer are highly cyanic, that is to say, very poisonous. To man as well as to the pigs. They don't touch the stuff.

I found this pretty painted gourd in shrubbery on Coronado and took advantage of the last chance to photograph sycamore seed balls, minus foliage (below) in front of Lincoln School.

Stopped to admire the stacked stonework above -- no mortar; wonder how long these courses will hold up. The wall below has been in place many, many years, and so it's no surprise that the hydraulic forces are pushing the brick walls awry.

I finally got a satisfactory shot of a rear dormer on the Victorian at Park and Gurley -- and wondered when the construction declared by the sign below would begin in earnest. No evidence of it the past couple of weeks. And so a house which has been gutted for remodelling sits there, open to the world.

I've been eyeing this insulator each time I passed by; on yesterday's stroll, I committed myself. It's almost as photogenic as the wooden crossbar. As for the smudges below, they represent an interesting development. This is the First Time Ever, in my experience, that civic graffiti have been painted over, just like outlaw graffiti. Interesting.

Big box ceilings

Architecturally, modern big box store design has little to recommend. However, I've discovered that the ceilings are another matter entirely. I looked overhead one day at the accursed Lowe's and immediately began a collection of ceiling photography. A big skylit nursery shed is particularly cool.

The view inside the store proper. I'd like to think that we're looking at an interior almost entirely lit by skylights, but I'm sure that isn't the case. No doubt banks of neons.

The nursery shed at WalMart West.

WalMart doesn't waste their ceiling structures -- very useful for hanging signs (above) and strings of bicycles (below).

I'm glad to have found another positive aspect of the big box monsters besides price.

I Want One: Just finished looking at a video of Micro$oft Surface, which combines the computer screen with the table top so that a bunch of people sitting around drinking beer, say, can pass Jpegs or documents from one to another -- or open an earth view to zoom in on their favorite saloon. Sounds like an app that would be perfect for a bar or a coffee house (or classroom), for that matter. Also worth checking out: a new blog that has just moved over to ScienceBlogs: it's called Eruptions; you can guess the subject matter. Also see: Arizona's Volcanic Past, though its coverage is spotty (i.e., nothing about our own homegrown volcano between Prescott and PV or the many lava topped mesas in Yavapai County, such as Big Bug high up in the Bradshaws.)

Building or block or both?

I am disabused.

Of what? Of the idea that the English talk of apartment blocks is a strange use of the language. I had never heard of any individual buildings in this country referred to as blocks (even tho I went through a brief period of Chicago-style architectural snobbery like many callow youths). All that was long before I came to Prescott, started walking its streets and looked just a little more carefully at what I thought I was seeing. Lo and behold, I have recently discovered that there are two early-1900s buildings downtown that proudly call themselves the Union Block (above) and the Raible Block.

The Union Block is on Gurley, right across from the Courthouse; the brick facade appears to be the original brick facing, unlike the Raible Block at 114 N. Cortez Street. I suppose we can be thankful that the original brickwork above its entrance was retained even as the remainder of the building suffered bland modernization. There might be yet another building that characterizes itself as a block; if so, I may be lucky enough to locate it.

Deconstructing the nasturtium

I've written in the past about my love/hate obsession with the nasturtium. Spring is about to happen here in the Arizona mountains and my thoughts are turning once more to pots filled with bright flowers. Including nasturtiums, which this evening brought to mind a series of pictures from last year, taken to show the different parts of the flower.

If you look closely at either of these blossoms, you'll find that the nasturtium has five petals (as a rule), but that three have "whiskers" at the lower end, while the other two sport stripes that lead down toward the center of the flower, where the real work is done.

It's pretty obvious, even to a rank amateur like myself, that the stripes are there to guide an insect toward the stamen either to pick up a load of pollen or to shake the anther, causing the pollen to alight on the stigma to start the seed-making process. But: what about the whiskers on the other three petals? Quite frankly, The Google didn't help me much with that question. I learned how to make caper substitutes from the seed pods as well as potato nasturtium soup. No talk about whiskers.

Perhaps their function is to brush off any pollen that sticks to a visitor, so that it falls back to the stigma. In any event, here are close-ups of both kinds of petals. Very possibly those stripes have a special color in ultra-violet light to catch the eye of the wandering insect -- that is often the case with flowers.

The plant doesn't count on stripes alone -- or bees and other bugs, for that matter. Each blossom also offers a heavy-duty nectary to entice hummingbirds or possibly hawk moths to help with the important job of pollination. It's strange but my mother, who introduced us kids to the honeysuckle nectary, never cottoned onto the syrup potential of a nasturtium. Maybe because the flowers are orange and she really, really didn't like that color! A pity. Oh, yes -- the nectary is that horn-shaped extension curving down from the bottom of the flower.