Critter exotica

Lest you believe that Prescott's critter exotica is limited to javelina and ring-tailed cats, I've collected here other beasties I've seen while wandering our town. 'Frinstance, that's one fine toucan spotted at the Grayleaf Galleries last winter.

The gilt-encrusted rhino was for sale at the gift shop in the Prescott Resort, which had a rather grand collection of frogs, painted ponies and other goodies.

The camel (above) and the elephants (below) were photographed in one of our many collectible shops.

On the other hand, the life-size giraffes made their home down in Cordes Lakes. BTW, does anyone know what has happened to the outfit that was selling the giant made-in-Mexico giraffes and lions and saurians; I'm told that they have left their yard across I-17 from Anthem.

In my book, the critter above must certainly be a firebird, don't you think? It, too, resided at the Grayleaf.

As for the zebra, it happened soon after I handed the younger granddotter an empty toilet paper roll one day this past summer.

Linkage: If you don't read the comments, you may have missed the wonderful clock that Avus linked to. For a fun trip, you might follow the pair of Arkansas lads who rode west on their bikes; in the process they discovered the White Spar. Among new local bloggers is a woman with two Maine coon cats. And yet another article about Arcosanti, the Utopia that wasn't.

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.

Our share of the Big Storm

Yes, the big coast-to-coast storm earlier this week did pass over Prescott, bringing us our first moisture in over a month. As such, it was welcome. Not so the high winds. But the winds are another story. Later. Tonight, the subject is snow.

Usually the result of a snow storm is a load of of the white stuff on our pines and naked deciduous trees. At first, on Monday afternoon, the snow began to build up on the Ponderosa (above) and the Scotch pine (below). By the next morning, most had been blown off, which is too bad. As long as we're going to have a snow storm, that Christmas card look is one of the big payoffs. However, the start was pretty.

Though we had about six inches total, it didn't pile up very high on the juniper or tree branches.

My strawberry pot will be well watered; the snow is melting very gradually. Meaning that it is cold. As in BRRR!

Our street, being unpaved never sees the snow plow. That leaves a neat canvas for interesting tire patterns.

The embankment collects various critter tracks, primarily dogs and the occasional cat, whereas the road (below) collects people prints (left) together with dog meanderings (right).

Here's my neighbor with Toby, who's straining at his leash to catch the frisbee.

When I finally ventured out into greater Prescott, the major streets were reasonably well plowed, though there was still a covering of snow. That was on Wednesday. Today, Thursday, my street is still snow covered -- and we're expecting another storm this weekend. And another next week. All thanks to that El Nino dominating the Pacific this season.

All About the Storm: The Prescott Pines Camp suffered major damage from the winds, including a Ponderosa that crashed into its dining hall. For a round-up of news about the storm, check out the Courier story; I don't know if electric service has been restored in all the outlying areas or not. NASA's Earth Observatory has a great big picture of the Big Storm here.

Accidental skull?

Oh, the strange things one sees when out walking around Prescott. What could it be? Any of you who recall seeing shapes in the clouds as a child ought to be able to come up with possibilities.

Misc. Links: In case you haven't seen the mysterious spiral of lights in the Norwegian sky, Space Weather has a still image; the Berman post includes videos that show how the lights developed, giving a very different picture of what happened; the final two of the three videos are best. In a less serious moment, you might take a look at a huge domino run over at YouTube.

Timepieces: postscript

Inevitable, isn't it, that as soon as you hit the publish button and retire for the night you remember several excellent examples and ideas that should have been included? All right in your own house? Not that I could have changed a thing -- the power went down at about 10:30 p.m. in a windy snow storm last night and wasn't switched back on until several hours later in the dark of early morning.

However, today I opened a little used drawer and found two watches which should have been included in last night's post. You will note that Chairman Mao (above) presided over a clock face 1) with nary a number and 2) with a red star atop the second hand. One of these was given to every member of my tour group to China back in 19aught80. We arrived in China at a time when little blue uniforms were still worn by all citizens (silk or fine wool for the masters, wash cotton for the masses), all the shoes were black cotton Mary Janes and the country was just opening to tourists from the capitalist west.

Quite in contrast, the Lady Elgin was given me by my Phoenix grandmother when I graduated from Phoenix College back in the 40s. In those days, a good watch was a valued treasure and there was little competition from the dime stores. (To judge from my spam mail, I gather that there is still a market for snob watches.)

And then, on the mantelpiece there sits the xerox clock, a project of passing interest to my late husband. The works (below) are for real, the temporary face was a paper copy that was never replaced by the real thing. The eagle is removable, but lends an air of grandeur to the enterprise.

Bavarian Squirrels: Steve, who is a regular commenter here at Walking Prescott, has been providing nuts for and photographing the squirrels who abound in his village. They all are beautiful animals, with great tufted ears, but he has one (to me) rather remarkably colored critter he calls Coal. Coal is a black squirrel, what one might call a "tuxedo squirrel", which is totally new to me. Today's post gives a good series of pictures of all three of his current visitors.
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Tick-tock

Precision measurement of time and space is a major underpinning of Western civilization, though I'm sure that those who are aware of this are few. Clocks are so ubiquitous in our world that we take them quite for granted. I'm one of those who doesn't even bother to wear a time-piece. (I got out of the habit when young, back in the days when one had to remove a watch when washing dishes or your hair or when showering.)

They are ubiquitous here in Prescott, as well, as I discovered picking out selections from my huge iPhoto folder. They range from the classic (above, complete to two mice who ran up the clock) I photographed in a collectibles shop to a wide variety over at the Miller Valley True Value (below).

Many more are on the shelves at WallyMart West (above, below), including one that should be donated to Sue Ann's Apple Pan.

This is a much grander clock awaiting auction at Batterman's several months ago; I wonder how much it fetched.

Apparently public time pieces arrived after individual clocks and watches were well established, according to historian Bernard Lewis. I doubt if any public clocks in America compare to the the astronomical clock on the side of Prague's Old Town Hall Tower, which dates back to the 15th century. Back when I was employed, I was lucky enough to join the crowd in front of the tower to observe the procession of the twelve apostles: on the hour, every hour, a small trap door opens and Christ marches out ahead of his disciples, while the skeleton of death tolls the bell to a defiant statue of a Turk. And, according to Lewis, the Ottomans did not adopt such infidel mechanisms as the clock until much later in their history, when it was realized how far behind the West their empire had fallen.

In the West, on the other hand, the symbolism of the two hands and their positions is sufficiently ingrained that you will find clocks that eliminate even the four numbers above. Whenever I see such a clock abstraction, my immediate inclination is to give it a good 90 degree twist, either left or right, leaving it to the owner to figure out why his machine isn't telling the correct time.

I also disapprove of the type of digital timepiece above. Whereas the classic round dial puts the current time into a context of past, present and future, the digital time readout is one more version of modern instant gratification. It implies neither tomorrow or yesterday, dealing only with Right Now. Relegate such a devices to timing a race or cookies baking in the oven, a proper use.

Woodman, spare that snag!

City folk -- and suburban people, as well -- have no use for snags, those dead outlines of trees that used to be. In fact, in civilized locations, if a tree is failing, the arborist is quickly called in for last rites. It's all a matter of tidiness (and perhaps a desire not to be reminded of one's own mortality).

Admittedly, thanks to our drought and the bark beetle infestation, we currently have more than our share of snags in the woods.

I've no idea what caused this forest of snags, which I discovered in a download of my Sson's photos from the Gulf Coast. But the image does demonstrate why naturalists recommend saving dead tree bones -- I count at least three large nests. And here, below, is a closeup of one tenant -- an osprey on lookout duty.

Until recently, this was a tall pine down near Crown King. A dead tree like this eventually becomes the sort of snag that makes an excellent home for an eagle's nest (thanks to friend Bob for this picture below).

Winter Links: The dotter has a new camera, which she has been exercising with scrumptious Alaskan seasonal pictures; take a look. Hoarded Ordinaries meditates on how drab December is before the snow arrives, while Dagny points her camera at a leafless winter tree.

Walt Disney flies again

So over at Albertson's there was this new batch of balloons, which included some quite Disney-ish looking items, such as that castle and, on closer examination, Snow White herself. Being of a suspicious nature, I figured that there was a reason -- a commercial one -- for Snow White to be popping up in public around Christmas time. I promptly hied myself over to Amazon to check on the DVDs and discovered, to no surprise, that the Disney folk have just released a new edition of their pioneering feature-length cartoon. (The last time it was released was in 20-aught-2. That's a pretty good life span.)

I suppose that it's a good thing to keep DVDs of films such as Snow White and the Wizard of Oz and Shirley Temple's Little Princess in print. That way, today's kids, inundated with modern children's books and cartoons coming out the kazoo, will be familiar with a handful of the classics. It's too bad that so much new (and so much of it so bad) muscles out the old stories that provided a bridge between generations. I recall what fun I had putting together a wonderful library of children's classics for my dotter, assembled from visits to resale shops and rummage sales and 2nd hand bookstores. The only old books that I never found in these venues were the Oz books, but then I had my own collection to pass along. Of course, none of these old books would pass muster under that recent law passed by our thoughtful folk in Congress -- there might just possibly be something toxic in the ink that would poison a toddler who consumed, say, the entirety of that library I collected. Sigh.

Waiting for the auction?

Well used, vintage vehicles spotted in the Batterman's auction house parking lot.

The sedan is anchored; its tires were flat as a pancake. Right and to the rear of the sedan, a Jeep, another elderly pickup and it looks like two utility vehicles, as well, hiding behind the truck. Surely they don't drive those any of those babies onto the auction floor?