The Arizona saguaro

Last night, my dotter reported that it was late autumn in her part of Alaska. Here in Prescott, the tang of autumn is just beginning to overtake the heat of summer. Once it cools down further, I'll probably think again about visiting the deserts to the south and west. All of which, in turn, brings to mind Arizona's official symbol, the giant saguaro cactus.

Look closely. This is the forest primeval -- Arizona style. Which is to say, a "forest" of saguaro climbing up the mountain slope. Comparatively young plants at that; though tall, few of the cacti feature arms, unlike the big guys below. And I mean BIG: the trunks grow to be 40-50 ft. tall.

The lore has it that you won't find saguaros above 3000 ft. elevation; too cold ... they can be killed by a deep frost. However, the LH and I found saguaros prospering at 4000 ft. elevation on a protected slope on Sadie's Peak near Yava way west of town. Heading south on I-17, the first saguaros appear on the south side of a mesa as the highway begins its descent toward Black Canyon City.

If you're like me, you prefer your deserts like your forests -- reasonably quiet, with a minimum of tourists. For example, heading toward Phoenix, but driving the old Black Canyon Highway through Bumblebee and Cordes. It's dirt all the way, bumpy most of the way -- but takes you into a different world than nearby I-17. My own favorite, as I've noted in the past, is to go to the west on either the Hillside Road or the Bagdad Road.
That's where I found these two fine old specimens growing along the Santa Maria River.

Not all saguaros are desert majesties, as this picture demonstrates. Those strange-looking growths at the ends of the arms are actually flower buds.

Here's a closer look at the flower buds -- and the actual blossoms (those pictures below are courtesy of the Arizona state government site). The flowers are followed by large, juicy red fruit which are a delicacy for native desert dwellers.




The architecture of the saguaro allows it to expand or contract like an accordion, depending upon how much water is available. The pulpy center is encircled by strong wooden ribs. There are some great examples of saguaro bones at the Dead Things store down in Yarnell, if it is still in business. (Or you can click here, to see pictures I took two years ago.)

Like old oaks and other trees, saguaros may grow gnarled as they survive accidents, nesting birds, the weather and the years.

Woodpeckers are the first birds to peck out a cavity in a saguaro, which, in turn secretes a surface that hardens and protects the trunk from rot and disease. The result (below) is called a saguaro shoe, which provides a nesting spot for several species of birds. That, by the way, is my own saguaro shoe given me by a neighbor.

The broken oak tree

For as long as I've lived in my neighborhood, I've noticed this large hollow at the base of an older emory oak tree; we're talking nearly 25 years. I've photographed the hollow several times. But it was only quite recently that I noticed a substantial crack running up the trunk:

As the crack curved around to an inaccessible side, I lost sight of it, so don't know just how high up the tree it winds. As to the cause, who knows. It doesn't look to be lightening.

Old age? I'm sure that this oak will continue to leaf out its canopy long after I'm gone! Unlike us meat creatures, trees live a slow, measured life. But I'm still curious as to the reason for the crack in this tree.

Linkage: Cathy, new to blogging and new to Prescott, is expecting visitors and has posted her list of places to see and things to do locally; now she'd appreciate your additions to the list. Hie yourself on over to Nifty Things. After you've done that and still are looking for something to while away the time, you might want to take a course in Cosmology at MIT or Kitchen Chemistry at another institution of higher learning. Read all about the FREE, high-powered on-line courses offered by top colleges and universities.

Yet another cool loo

At least for the Ladies'. Wildlife. Certainly appropriate for the Lynx Lake Store/Cafe location in the forest. Though I was happy to see one of my favorite critters celebrated, I couldn't help noticing that stiff, outsized tail. The little chipmunk is one of our smaller ground squirrels; you'll find them everywhere, even in the wood pile on my back porch.

Much better executed -- the mountain lion (cougar/catamount/puma). Not a guy you care to meet up with. Definitely not in the woodpile on my back porch, though lions periodically put in an appearance within the city limits.

Foxes? Yes, they certainly make a home in our mountains and forests, but they are very seldom seen outside our little local zoo.

On the other hand, several years have passed since the bald eagle pair began nesting right across the lake from the cafe. If you have binoculars, you can see their home each spring as you sip coffee. With more luck, you'll also see them fish the lake.

Western kitsch galore!

Let me see: when I first met this cafe on Gurley across from the Courthouse, it was cool and called Greens and Things. Trendy light food of course, in its day. The place has seen several versions; most recently, the make-over positively drips Western. Really heavy on the decor, though the food is not bad either.

Saddles, chaps, lariats, hats --cowboy stuff.

A bit of old cooking ware -- after all, cowboys and miners had to cook their own grub. There's even a box of borax below.

A chandelier made of antlers -- popular in these parts. Below, a slick gambling man flanked by a deer.

More wildlife: above, a buffalo, and, below, a pronghorn. I don't believe that the buffalo ever roamed Arizona -- they were primarily Plains creatures. However, we still have several herds of pronghorns (an antelope sort of animal) in the Prescott area.

No Western setting would be complete without the ubiquitous steer skull, of course.

Rachel Carson in chautauqua

"Would you like to come to a chautauqua at the Nature Center?" The question came from a good neighbor. My answer: "Of course. Uh, just what is a chautuaqua?" In this case, it was a presentation not about Rachel Carson but rather a presentation by a woman who became Rachel Carson for the evening.

Said the Nature Center website, "a few thousand words from Rachel Carson and the world took a new direction." Carson challenged the experts, questioned government, technology and progress itself. "Silent Spring has been recognized throughout the world as one of those rare books that change the course of history . . . by altering the direction of man's thinking." The impetus for the book, however, was Carson's love of life itself, and it is this love that Fiona Reid interpret[s] as the image of Rachel Carson.

Nearly 10 years ago, Reid, education director of the Center, had made a study of Carson as her college senior project and, over the years, had become ever more intimate with her subject, as a person and as a scientist.

The performer passed around a container of sea sand with shells to help move the audience into her world on the coast of Maine and of The Sea Around Us. As part of the program, the audience asked questions of Reid in her role as Carson, followed by questions about her subject.

Always curious, I found myself consulting with The Google about chautauquas, which were a rather remarkable adult education movement in rural America in the late 19th and early 20th century, before movies, radio, and television brought the same glitz and entertainment to the boonies that the cities enjoyed. Orators, performers, and educators traveled a national Chautauqua circuit of more than 12,000 sites bringing lectures, performances, concerts, classes, and exhibitions to thousands of people in small towns and cities. Theodore Roosevelt called Chautauquas, "the most American thing in America." So notes the website for the Colorado Chautauqua, one of the three remaining permanent chautauqua sites. The most famous is The Chautauqua Institution, on Lake Chautauqua in New York, which remains a fascinating blend of summer camp for grown-ups with all manner of cultural/educational programs. And, of course, the source of this strange name.

Taking a weekend holiday...

...back on Monday evening. And, no, I'm not spending the weekend at Lynx Lake (above, below) but doing a pajama party at a friend's. Have a good weekend, everybody.

Meet Mr. Miller

When I snapped Patty's chef, little did I realize that I would meet a real live pig three days later.

Yet here's Mr. Miller, the pet porker who lives out behind the Lynx Lake Store as one of the dogs in this enclosure. Mr. Miller is house broken -- and wags his funny little tail when he's happy.

The door is the entrance to his quarters; the dogs live next door.

Shy ones

Friend Patty is a friend to animals of all kinds, which means that she indulges them with all manner of feeders. As we left her house after yesterday's game of Scrabble, these seed bags were covered with little guys. By the time I had my camera in shooting position, there were none. But I waited them out. Slowly, they began to return -- the goodies were irresistible. By my first shot, there were three of the little fellows -- all watching me quite careully.

Soon another joined -- and one, satisfied that the giant wasn't about to attack, began to eat.

Most of the birds were ready for food by the time another pair arrived.

A total of seven birds had returned to the feeding bags when I decided to call it quits. I suppose that if I really want to take pictures of birds, I will have to get into the feeder business. Which sort of defeats the purpose of my long zoom lens, which was to enable my camera to see into the trees and underbrush where birds hang out. It doesn't -- the dang camera carefully focuses on the branches and twigs in front of any birds I espy. Besides, I already have one demanding pet to take care of. And, no, I'm not going to burden myself carrying all that glass of a a DSLR.

Linkage: Sometimes you really have to admire grumpy folk with a fine sense of irony. Boonie, for instance, who essays an essay on forest fires as a way to fight an economic depression. One of my recent posts about trees at the ridgeline got a mention in the most recent Festival of the Trees over at Arboreality (I love that name!); the theme for this blog carnival is secrets in and of the forest. And, on the subject of festivals, I came across a URL for the Prescott Film Festival (which is a effort that I don't quite understand. Besides, I always thought that a proper Prescott Film Festival would consist of a week-long celebration of yesterday's westerns.)

Design for Victorian living

A proper frontier Victorian house. How else to describe the John Fremont house on the Sharlot Hall Museum grounds? Built in 1875, 10 years after the town was founded, the Gurley Street cottage was the home of the fifth territorial governor of Arizona (1878-1881) -- on those few occasions he stayed in Prescott.

I had not realized that the building did not make it to the museum grounds until the early 1970s. The Sharlot Hall website tells us that the removal and restoration cost almost $30,000 and the caved-in roof (from a recent fire) did not appeal to the aesthetic senses of the community. Many questioned the whole process and one architect suggested the best way to deal with the old house, even after it was moved, was to burn it down. Eventually, the "Fremont House" was restored and was dedicated January 19, 1974.

These days it is one of the features in the monthly living history presentations by the museum staff and volunteers (above); the next such event is scheduled for Saturday Sept. 12, BTW. Note: all the furniture in the restored house is from the same historic era, though it came from many sources. I can't believe that the original was this uncluttered and suspect that folks with modern sensibilities did the decorating!

Now for a tour of the house, beginning with the dining room.

The dining room stove (above): what gorgeous iron work! Of course, there was a stove in every room for heating, most likely with local pine or juniper wood.

The kitchen (partitioned off by glass which made flash impossible to use).

The bedroom: above, bed; below, the vanity and night stand.

Finally, the bedroom stove. Thinking about all those stoves and all those logs to lug in and all those ashes to dispose of reminds me of how glad I am to live in the time of central heat!