The End of a Dream

It was an ignominious end of a small -- but glorious -- dream. Kuhles Demolition Company tore down the Old Roadhouse restaurant last Thursday, to make way for a new fire station. The restaurant, which went through a number of hands, but never caught on, had burned last year.

A great pity.

The structure was basically an excuse, maybe, or bad business plan or desperate attempt to rationalize the purchase of the old Santa Fe railroad bridge over Granite Creek.

As I recall the tale, a couple who were railroad buffs realized a dream when they were able to buy the bridge -- the Santa Fe was closing out its Prescott operations.

But then the question did come up: what does one do with one's railroad bridge. It isn't very portable. In a world of lifestyles and cool concepts, the obvious answer is a restaurant or saloon. At some point, the rolling stock was acquired and the front building tacked on. It didn't work.


Now that the city owns the property, what happens to the bridge -- and passenger car atop it? The gossip says that the bridge stays, but the fate of the grafitti-ed car is up in the air.

I certainly hope that we keep the bridge. As readers know, I've got a soft spot in my heart for those old, four-square steel constructions, if for no other reason than that they beg to be photographed from many angles.

Street Fruit

I lucked out! Despite the heat, I took a short walk this afternoon (6-ish, so not so bad) to check the status of my favorite street fruit, which happens to be apricots. I don't take from the tree above, even though the owner seems not to give a tinker's damn about what he/she/they've got! You see, this tree doesn't put an arm outside the property line. So the fruit drops and either serves the ants and other fauna -- or it dries up. Too bad.

It's the property line that counts when picking street fruit, as anybody my age learned as a kid. Fortunately, I have another tree that serves up apricots. And here's what I found today:


Squished apricots on the sidewalk. That means they're ripe -- it might also mean that I'm too late. But over on the ground next to the sidewalk, look at what I saw. As in yum.


Actually, I wound up scoring five fruit that were edible, with 100 times the flavor of that beautiful but flavorless mealy stuff served up by the supermarkets. It's my one day a year to eat apricots (except for the dried ones, Trader Joe's preferred.)

Apricots are one of those tantalizing foods that catch you in the corner of the mouth when they're just right. (Raspberries are another fruit with that elusive quality. Fortunately for raspberries, they hold up through the marketing process.)

For a brief couple of days this spring, I thought that perhaps my own apricot trees might bear. There were certainly plenty of blossoms. But as seems inevitable, a late Prescott-style frost caught any fruit that was set. I have 6 trees that came up from fruit stones I planted the first couple of years we lived here. Sizes today range from 18" to 25', depending on how far the trees could dig their roots into the granite. To date, I have harvested 3 (count 'em, 3) entire apricots.

There are other street fruit trees on my walking routes. Good scrawny little apples that beat anything from the store for flavor. But fruit from the one pear tree I've spotted doesn't hold up when it drops.

On the other hand, there are those plums down at the SE corner of the Sharlot Hall grounds. There's at least one good bite from most even after they have hit the sidewalk.

I should mention here that, though they don't qualify as street fruit, several plants on the museum grounds offer goodies in season. F'rinstance, raspberries. (If you show up before the other raspberry fanciers do.) Then there is that forgotten fruit -- the gooseberry; the bush at Sharlot Hall bears really sweet tangy fruit (anyone out there know where I can get a gooseberry pie?)

There are also apple trees and a couple of peaches. The latter remind me of grocery store California peaches -- beautiful but flavorless.

As you can see below, the grape vines had a good start early this spring -- but today? Nada!

Vintage RR Stations

In case you were wondering, those two splendid old red buildings on the left side of Iron Springs Road as you head out of town are the real thing. The building above was the Santa Fe passenger station at Hillside; the other came from Drake, as I recall.

Today Hillside station is an excellent restaurant and Drake station houses Western relics and antiques. A third member of this set remains in Skull Valley, where it serves the local historical society.

I don't know if there is a station remaining at the Iron Springs community -- it certainly was a busy location in the summer many years ago. My Mom tells of the "weekend warriors" in the 20s and 30s who took the train every weekend from Phoenix and back to join the wife and children who were in the mountains for a cool summer at Iron Springs.

I had the good fortune to ride the Santa Fe from the Valley up to Williams in ought-46. The passenger train consisted of a combination freight/Railway Express car and a combo mail/observation car. Most readers are probably too young to remember what an observation car was -- a lounge car with unassigned seats. But most important was a little open air "porch" at the back -- that's where the politicians stood to wave to the crowds on their whistlestop tours.

The run up to the main line left Phoenix at four in the afternoon -- so you could see the Hassayampa River down near Wickenburg and, later, the small canyon of Kirkland Creek. It was dark well before we reached Prescott, unfortunately, because I was looking forward to seeing the Dells from the train.

I don't recall the train stopping at either Hillside or Drake.

Scenes from the Alley 6: Tree Massa-cree

So there was this little cottage on the alley, and it faced west, source of the hottest sun of the day. But for years, it was sheltered by this ivied oak tree.


And then one day the men from APS showed up and noted that the branches were entwined with the power lines. And so the tree was twice girdled by the pink sign of death.


The tree became firewood and the cottage lost its shade. Probably the only beings happy about this situation are several hollyhocks that are blooming more brightly and profusely than in past years.

Amphibious Adieu

OK, OK. I'm about through with toads and frogs and such for the nonce. But I have to admit that the picture of the photographer (above, in the toad's eye) is pretty awesome. And so I just had to show it!



And here's a picture of the wee frog whose eye was featured in yesterday's post. SSon offers this info: Canyon Tree Frog, photographed at Pine Creek near Crown King in the Prescott National Forest off of the Senator Highway.

Deer, Eye of Toad & Dragonfly, Oh My

Periodically, friends send me images that are worth sharing! Here's a pair from friend Bob, who caught this deer across the street from his home in Mountain Club. And I have to satisfy myself with an occasional javelina sighting! My neighbors (who have a small koi pond) at least get raccoon visitors on occasion.



The sson, who visited recently, is back on the job with the Natl. Park Service; he just sent me the next pictures, also taken locally. Partly to show off how high the definition of a new Nikon digital camera. And how! The frog eye, followed by the toad eye, is an extreme blow-up from a normal close-up picture of the entire animal.

I have to admit that I'm impressed by the sson's steady hand! Even maxxing out on pixels, if his hand weren't steady, the extreme blow-ups would have been blurred! Or maybe it's the magic of an extremely fast electronic shutter that makes the difference.



There's a reason the toad below is pointing his nose to the heavens -- look carefully at the image in his eye. It's the photographer (to the left)! In fact, if you look closely in the frog's eye (above), you can see the glitter of the sun and the blue sky!



This monster from another planet is actually the head of a dragonfly captured by my granddaughter during the recent visit.

By the way, the sson wants me to correct a statement I made about the toad in the previous post. It is commonly known as a Southwestern Spadefoot Toad; under this name, there should be more Google entries than for Hammond's Spadefoot.

Good Old Days Revisited

Wearing my cynic's hat, I'm inclined to call it a hokey promotional gimmick. But wearing my heart on my sleeve, it's an entirely different matter -- I love it!

It being the new old fashioned soda fountain at Goodwin Street Pharm. Perfect for a cool goodie after walking Prescott. Malts. Ice cream sodas. Phosphates. Ice cream cones. And...

...I finally had an egg cream. In Prescott, of all places. Which requires an explanation. I grew up in the Southwest and the South; my career days were spent in Chicago. No such thing as an egg cream in any of these places; I recall Brooklyn types and sophisticated Manhattanites asking for egg creams in Chicago -- I always wondered what the heck they were talking about.

Now I finally know. Basically, an egg cream is a chocolate phosphate with a squirt of cream. Yummy. And please don't ask me about the "egg" part. I still don't know, even though I've asked several Easterners.

Imprisoned Playground

Grump. Note picture above. It's a lock. It's to keep kids on one side (the outside) and playground equipment on the other (the inside). For as long as my grandchildren have visited me, they've used the playground at Lincoln School.

Not this year.

For some reason, officialdom has determined that not only is this to be a "drug-free" campus, but also a child-free one as well. At least in the summer, when a nearby playground is most needed. Need I suggest the L-word?

Putting a Stake Thru the Heart of a Road

It doesn't always result in a dead road. Frequently, when wandering the forests, you'll come across a dead stake, instead. Backroad rage maybe. "These forests belong to me. The people, not the Forest Service!" I'll admit to similar reactions at times.


Some drivers know the secret of a stake driven through the heart of a road, like the broken one my grandson is holding up for admiration. It's this -- the stake is usually on a flexible hinge & it pops back up after one drives over it. A paper tiger, that's what it is! After all, the G-Men in Green may have to drive up the forbidden lane that we the people are supposed to walk.

So it gets driven over, again and again, & finally gives out. Or, just as likely, someone slays it with a well placed rock or two.


My late husband and I did a lot of exploration in the woods hereabouts. Mind you, we had been city folks most of our lives and came west in our 50s -- we weren't in the greatest of shape. We figured that we were usually good for about one or two miles out and the same back, depending upon the terrain and the heat. So we counted upon any one of our little Subaru wagons to get us close to whatever the day's objective might be. Forest Service and topo maps were our guide.

Believe me, it can be damned frustrating (and, yes, enraging, at times) to discover, after several miles of creeping on a rutted back road, that the turn-off route you had carefully selected had been decomissioned. A stake. Or a big fat, impassible berm. All at the whim of some uniformed bureaucrat. Admittedly, we didn't kill the dang things.

Even more frustrating was to set forth on an expedition to a favorite place, only to discover that, Oops, our usual route had suddenly been declared taboo. Complete with the usual brown stake. Or a fat, impassible berm.

That's what leads to the sense of being gradually closed in -- a common affliction of older people or of old-timers in a locale. On the one hand, some less popular backroads get blacktopped -- and crowded -- while others have stakes driven through their hearts. I hate it!

Examples abound. For instance, once it was possible to drive all the way to Mint Creek from the Williamson Valley trailhead. About a mile. Today, the trailhead has been gussied up, but you have to wear yourselves out walking the dull mile to what had once been your take-off point. (We always figured that complaints from posh WV homeowners who had paid big bucks to back on the forest had something to do with that particular closure...)

And, we never got down to the Verde Hot Springs ruin near Childs, being too chicken to try fording the Verde. Yes, there had been a forest road from the West to this one-time resort. But -- it was bermed. I suspect the idea was to keep the hippies and their successors out -- a forlorn hope. After all, they were/are young and reasonably buff. It sure worked on us, however.


Here's a picture of the road that started off this rant. Yes, I certainly am able to see why the PNF wants to close it -- look at the ruts and erosion.

I can see the point of view of those who are younger and buffer -- no-vehicles-allowed keeps the crowds down and hikes more solitary. (I like my hikes solitary, too, unless I happen to sprain an ankle one mile out!)

City folks like the black top so that they, too, can enjoy the outback -- without layering their big cars in dust.

In short, you can't win!

It's the Tragedy of the Commons (a famous essay by Garrett Hardin) in a microcosm. Land that belongs to all is too often exploited by all, with a result no one wants.

Note: the AZ Fish and Game Department will hold 12 open houses on the subject of roadless areas in the forests. The Prescott meeting: 6-9 p.m. Thursday, July 20, in the county building, 1015 Fair St. All public comment must be in writing -- to avoid grandstanding, says AFGD.

While Strolling to the Bank Today...

...after a morning's heavy rain so gray. Phooey. I give up. W.S. Gilbert I'm not! But it was a good walk, even though I used up the memory space on my camera long before I had recorded all the sights of the day:

1. Apparently the United Methodist Church stores what it calls a Sidewalk Sunday School in this van. First, the left side.



Then, the right. I'm still trying to picture the whole set-up: sidewalk, school, students -- and the mysterious contents of that van!

2. Further along, I came across this rather forlorn fragment. It certainly causes one to speculate.


I'm certain it has nothing to do with numerals -- more likely a youngster, possibly of Pakistani or East Indian or even Iranian extraction, suffering 9/11-inspired attacks from kids who are too ignorant to know that the majority of actual Arab-Americans are Christians! It looks as though a mirror or a picture had been in the frame.

3. Still further along (and more cheerful), participants in tomorrow's fete at the Sharlot Hall grounds were pitching their tents . This event: the annual Indian Arts Fair. If I go, I'll probably have to be satisfied eyeballing the wares. They tend to be pricey.


4. Parked in front -- this car, obviously owned by one of the artists, in from New Mexico.


5. And a fitting finale to this walk -- a poem by Sharlot Hall herself painted on the embankment wall next to the Gurley Street crossing of Granite Creek. Unfortunately, to really see the words, you must lean out over the railing.

A Stop for Flowers on the White Spar Road

We'd been down to Wilhoit, on the other side of the Prietas, and were tooling up the highway headed for Prescott. I caught sight of this field of bright yellow flowers -- not what I would have expected at the turnoff to Pondrosa Park. So we stopped to explore and take pictures.


The bright yellow was courtesy of a big patch of Mexican Hat -- an Arizona wildflower, but not one found in the forest locally in my experience. Very likely an ADOT seeding. Finding Rocky Mountain Penstemon plants scattered among the yellows sealed my verdict. I've seen this purple flowered penstemon growing wild around Prescott, but usually near a location where it had been cultivated. Look for these flowers up in the Flagstaff area, where they are probably native.


The pink Palmer's Penstemon above was well past the blooming stage, with lots of fat seed pods and two lonely blossoms left. This is a prolific native in the woods hereabouts and highly recommended for gardens.

Periodically, the highway department seeds wildflowers along roadway embankments -- I applaud! You can thank them for the California poppies along SR 69 on the east side of Prescott Valley or the Desert Marigolds further south on the same road near Cordes Junction.

Of course such seedings don't always take. One year, ADOT sent a vehicle to seed along SR 89 south of the Prietas. A local who was watching this operation told us that there was a flock of birds following right behind. No flowers that year.


It seems that no spot along the White Spar is complete without the remains of a campfire. Just in case you wonder why the Forest Service people are uptight about human-caused fires.


The White Spar parallels Granite Creek coming down from higher elevations. A hundred yards or so downhill from the highway where we parked, there's the creek, with little pools of water. It's certainly moister, enough so that scattered columbines are happy next to a decaying tree trunk. And the seed pods on the white loco were were hard to miss. A welcome interlude in the middle of a pleasant drive!

Pig Wallow Update

Monday I got an email from next door neighbor. He had taken this picture at 4:45 in the afternoon. Shortly thereafter, the fluffed up javelina climbed the hill and disappeared. Cat Max was relaxing under the car throughout the episode. (I cropped him out since he wouldn't have shown up well in any event.)

Over the weekend, I toured the property uphill -- and found that I have not just the wallow I discussed recently -- but 5 others, primarily in a walking path that gets a certain amount of watering, thus making for just the right conditions for a happy javelina.

And for any cat fanciers wondering about Max, here is a picture of my companion. As he grows older, he has mellowed and is less and less like my comic favorite, Bucky, in Get Fuzzy, who is both arrogant and wrong-headed.

If I Ran the Courier

So just what have that headline and this picture to do with each other. Simple. I've lived in Prescott nearly 25 years -- and I've never seen a feature story about all those summer camps that ring the city (15 of 'em, according to the Yellow Pages)! I'm curious about them. As history. As employers of how many people? As businesses bringing how many $ into the local economy. As a group and individually.

But then I've never seen a really good story introducing the "Tri-Cities" readers to the surrounding countryside. Skull Valley? Yarnell? Ash Fork? Hillside? Yava? Seligman?

We have business pages -- but where's the analytical story about ranching in Yavapai County as a business -- and where it is headed (aside from the developers' portfolios).

I raise these questions -- and many more -- because of the many newcomers, who should really know more about the area they have chosen as home.

Do they know that there are four important (Arizona- style) rivers in the county? Just FYI, the Verde, the Agua Fria, the Hassayampa and the Santa Maria.

Just the other day, the Courier discovered gold mining. Hey -- it's been going on out in the local boonies ever since I arrived up here in the mountains (and before, of course.) If not the paper, then who should warn folks who wander the woods that they might well run into real, genuine, gritty, bearded prospectors -- who are quite as tetchy about their claims as any character in an old Western movie. And they often pack heat.

It's funny -- there's one flavor to the town if you stay cooped up inside the city limits except for the occasional trip down to the Big City in the Valley. There's another flavor if you drive out and around on occasion, but stick to the black top. And there's yet an entirely different world out there if you'll let the car get a little bit dusty on one (or many) of those back roads.

It seems to me that one of the missions of the local paper should be to introduce people to the wonderful area where they are now living. Maybe the staff of the paper need to be introduced themselves!

Happy Birthday, USA

I suspect that if I were out at night, this eagle-bedecked flag would light up, just like the little flag around the corner, below. It would seem that colored electric lights are starting to take the place of old-fashioned bunting for the new-fangled celebration of July 4th.



The electric flag above spans most of the front porch on this house. I mean, it's big! But then this house over on Park Ave. is dolled up for many holiday occasions -- Christmas, Valentine's Day, Easter, Halloween. All with lights; sorry that my St. Pat's photo was taken in the daylight. Note the string of lights at the bottom.

Iron Springs Road Trio

Drove out to Granite Basin today with my late husband's son and his family. In the past I hadn't noticed any special sights on this trip out to one of my favorite local spots in the forest.

However, today I caught sight of two notable mail boxes, above and below. As someone with more than a little touch of printer's ink in my veins, I particularly cotton to the receptacle attached to the old flat bed press. As my daughter would say, "Kewl!"


The third sight, however, was truly unexpected on this grey, rainy day. The huge, rusty, metallic saurian was the most outstanding of the many animal sculpts visible on this estate's grounds. We found ourselves wondering if the property owner and the creator were one and the same! If I had the room, I wouldn't mind owning this fellow!

Cool Loos at School

Nothing like a polished granite mosaic to make a public washroom special. Not the sort of thing you'd normally associate with a school or a college. However, it's one of the payoffs for the recycling emphasis when Prescott College's Crossroads Center was built.

A friend of the college discovered that the local shop supplying granite counter tops to home builders and remodellers in the Prescott area was tossing units that didn't come up to specs. For instance, a single ding was enough to disqualify a surface. These beautiful pieces of polished stone were landing in the landfill!


So said friend collected the rejects for a year -- and they were used to make mosaic walls in the washrooms at the center. Logically enough, the theme appears to be geological.

The old bottles used in the section below carry their own story -- they were unearthed when ground was broken for the center. Turns out that the old Sacred Heart Hospital, which had occupied the site until it burned down, was razed and used as land fill. The medicine bottles are among the debris the builders found.