Neighborly Theme Copy?

When it was first built, that office building at the corner of Grove and Gurley didn't particularly impress me as an outstanding edifice. It still doesn't.


However, an eagle-eyed neighbor spotted one feature that is a saving grace: look at that funny little blip of a peak in the roof line. Then take a look at the top of a Lincoln School building, which is just a block away. If you let your imagination work a little, even the windows bear a certain near resemblance.

Forest-Speak

Mind you, I'm not complaining about the PNF (Prescott Natl. Forest). My relationship with the folks in green has always been tops.

However, I do have a question or two about their special vocabulary. Perhaps some reader out there can enlighten me:

1. Why "on the forest" rather than "in the forest"? I mean, when I go out to Granite Basin Lake or Groom Creek for a walk, I look up at the tree tops. I am in the forest; if I were on the forest, I'd be looking down at the tree tops. Maybe the idea is that all foresters think and talk as though they were up in those lookout towers, where the tree tops are really downhill from them.

2. On PNF (and other Forest Service) maps, I've spotted a mystery feature. What the hell is a "trick tank"? Is it a low place where water gathers, but there's a hole with a plug at the lowest point, so that when game or cattle herds show up, some elf pulls the plug & laughs maniacally? Or just what. This one has been worrying me for over 20 years!

By the way, if you don't have the big PNF map in your glove compartment, by all means get one at the local office (see link at right). It won't be up to the standards of a 7-1/2" topo quad, but then few people want to carry a small library of maps when out for a casual drive.

Stone Fences Make...

...good neighbor-hoods.

My late husband and I moved to the Prescott area in the early 80s. A Chicago native, my husband was smitten by the mountains, the scenery -- and, of course, the ROCKS!

You have to understand that the rocks you find in the Chicago region are small, few and far between, left behind when the Ice Age glaciers receded. There are a couple of limestone outcroppings in the city, rare and important enough as landmarks to actually bear names, such as Stony Island. By far the exception for a city that is sitting on a couple hundred feet of clay.

So, when LH arrived in AZ, he couldn't resist picking up pretty rocks, interesting rocks, or everyday rocks each time we went on an excursion. I had lived in the state as a youngster in the 30s and again in the 40s, so I was a little more picky. Needless to say, backpacks, the car floor and the yard were quickly weighted down by collections. Rocks of all sorts.


And whenever we had a guest from Illinois, it was rocks, rocks & more rocks -- until it was time to pack for the airplane, when reality set in. We, of course, were saddled with a bunch more rocks.

But all by way of introduction.


Because it's obvious that earlier Prescott people were also into rocks, for a more practical reason -- damn fine building material, right at hand. When you walk or drive around the town and older summer resort areas, such as Mountain Club or Walker, keep your eyes open for the wonderful stone cottages, outbuildings and fences.

For a great display of stone fences of various stripes and materials, I recommend a walk along Park Avenue. Because this street was carved into a hilly area full of granites, most houses starting at Gurley Street, heading south, feature a rock fence or retaining wall. Styles vary and in some cases, shaped blocks of granite are used. (As for the granite, I presume it's of local origin, though I've never been able to locate a one-time granite quarry on any of the area USGS topo quads.)


A problem: not all of those "retaining walls" that bound a front yard a few feet above the sidewalk were built as such. So I learned one day from an elderly mason. He was repairing one of those stone walls, which had suffered a breach after the water load in the soil uphill proved too heavy.

He researched old records and pictures, which showed that, when built, many of the walls were actually fences (to keep the local kids out -- Lincoln School is nearby.) The yards behind some of the fences sloped up to the houses. It was only later that people decided that level -- or less sloped yards were the Thing to Do (and easier to mow.)

Of course, some of the walls front yards that are high -- because the site is higher than street level. These are likely to incorporate boulders which were already there.

But take a look for yourself. The variety is to great to include here.

A Yellow Rose for GrannyJ

"Do you really want a yellow Henderson rose?" the friend asked.

"You bet!" I replied. And so he allowed as how he knew a couple of places where the yellows had expanded well beyond their property boundaries onto the public right-of-way -- and that he had been wanting one, as well.

We were on our way to his house, where wife had baked a Real Rhubarb Pie (not one of those contaminated by strawberries in an effort to lure younger generations to this old-time favorite.)

I had hoped to get a picture of a smallish pine limb they had displayed at one time -- a prime example of the acorn woodpecker's handiwork. It was absolutely studded with acorns; I've never seen anything like it, before or since.

Too bad -- the prize disappeared a long time ago. However, I did get a good look at a couple of big ponderosas, which had housed many generations of woodpeckers. The dang trees looked like teen-agers with terminal zits. From the ground all the way up the trunk. Note the white centers of some of the holes; those are acorns from many years back that have never been eaten, while the bark has grown far too many thicknesses for recovery.



Another favorite place for stashing acorns: under a shingle at the very edge of a roof; the choosy woodpeckers seem to favor bigger and better houses.

The picture below was taken while I waited for my rhubarb pie. As readers should figure out by now, I have a fancy for roses that are either wild or just one step from wild. But never had I seen such a tiny rose!
That's a table knife for size comparison. Each blossom (six of 'em in a cluster) measured about 1/2 " across.
Info, anyone?

Roses in Bloom

To answer your first question, the rose above is a wild rose -- called, appropriately, Arizona rose. It is near my door and I grew it from seed (a feat I'm quite proud of.)

Like all wild roses, the plant has more than enough thorns, and like all roses, it delivers more blossoms if it is cut back ruthlessly -- a lesson I learned from my mother who, at 100+, still criticizes the landscapers at the senior home where she lives, "They just don't know how to prune roses."

The other rose -- the yellow, below -- is an old fashioned variety found around and about Prescott and
environs. It must be close to wild, if one judges by the quantity of thorns. One of the biggest I've seen is a huge bush that grew for many years along the Iron Springs Rd. as it enters Skull Valley.

I don't know the yellow's name, but there's a hedge of 'em at Sharlot Hall on the Gurley St. side. One friend, an old-timer, calls them the "Henderson roses", after an early settler. I'd love to have one of these roses in my yard. However, the nurseries won't carry them because their bloom lasts only about 2 weeks -- and once the blossoms are gone, say the nurseries, nobody is interested in buying.

So, you might say, why don't you grow one from seed? Hah! About 10 years ago, I did see a handful of hips on the Sharlot Hall bushes that were red and developing, but I didn't follow through. Those were the last I've seen. It turns out that these Henderson beauties reproduce almost entirely via underground runners.

Hacker's Hydrant?

You tell me! I don't know quite what to make of this hydrant-plus- extension. It was across the street & down aways from my splendid chrome-plated biker robot.

The stick holding up the far end of the extension is good evidence for hacker rather than official provenance!

Biker Robot

Nothing neater than walking along and suddenly catching sight of a 10-foot-tall chrome-plated fellow. He stands down at the lower end of Granite St., guarding or more likely welcoming folk to the Electric Hog. Which is where they do custom things to one's Harley. Of course.

I was taking the long way to the Phippen show on the Plaza Monday when I happened across him. I'm more smitten by this gaudy character than by any of the incredible number of bronzes of horses & more horses I saw on the Square later in the day.

Do take a look (below) at his special features. For example, the hair-do is grand. The ears? Well, his creator might have used small dish antennas instead. At the bottom of the picture, you can see either A) his abs & insides (including a loudspeaker for belching) or B) his privates. I haven't figured out which. But the finishing touch is my favorite -- the rear view mirror welded to one arm.

Anybody out there know his name? If so, drop a note in the comment box below. Otherwise, he remains some version of "Hey! You!" He deserves better.

Things That Go Bump...

...in the night! So there I was, late last night, working away at my previous post. And I heard loud thumping
& bumping. The Max cat was outside. Had he captured the neighborhood skunk? Had a wandering coyote tried to grab the precious Max cat?

Opening the door, I shouted for Max -- and heard heavy clumping footsteps making time uphill. Plus the telltale "huff huff". One of the local pack of pigs.

Excuse me, javelina. Got to keep the species straight.

It happens that, tho I live less than a mile from the Courthouse, my house is apparently located on an old javelina trail. The pack shows up every so often, looking for goodies.

These include the staples: grape hyacinths, the roots of any wild white evening primrose that I have managed to tame, and a handful of surviving tulip bulbs left over from more optimistic gardening days. Dessert? Try pansy blossoms, for starters. And, occasionally, the roots of a red California poppy I've been nursing along.

Last night, the beasts had found out my secret: that I had transferred most of my hyacinths to pots, in the belief that the pigs sniffed the ground out first. Worked for several years. But I've been found out. I'll have to work up a new strategy!

Like the little electric fence a tulip-loving, tulip-planting neighbor installed when I first mentioned the pig problem. It worked for a long time, even after he had planted literally hundreds of bulbs a couple of years ago. Unfortunately, early this spring, after the blossoms had opened, the javelina discovered that the fence was in disarray.

That was one Tulip Massacree!!!

But then I have another friend who loves wildlife. As you can see, below. Great picture, but I'm glad it wasn't taken here.

Love That Life Force

Way back in the 50s, an audio production of GB Shaw's Don Juan in Hell was a popular record. It featured (sigh) Charles Boyer as the Don, with a major discussion of the persistence of the Life Force. About as spiritual as GBS ever got!

I think of the persistence of life periodically, especially in the drought-ridden West. I'm always impressed at how lush the Arizona desert is, even in the driest times.

I'm also impressed at how floral and faunal creatures persist in the face of major obstacles. Take the sprouting sycamore above. It's right at the Sharlot Hall corner of Gurley and McCormick.

Several years ago -- maybe five or six -- this large tree was cut down, because, like most sycamores, it had shallow roots. The kind that tilt sidewalk squares and cause Hazardous Conditions for pedestrians. The diameter of the trunk, as you can see, was sizeable, maybe 15 or more inches across.

Apparently that sycamore has a good system of roots because every year, it tries to make a tree again. And every year the powers that be, no doubt mindful of the liability lawyers, cut the new growth back.

You gotta admire the persistence of that sycamore!

Then there are the mariposa lilies in bloom right now on the Sheldon Street slope next the Masonic cemetery. Not much else growing there this year; look closely and you'll see dried leaves and dry grass surrounding the blossom. And the recent winds haven't been kind to some of the flowers, either.

But these mariposas are persistent! This the only stand of mariposas remaining in the city that I am aware of. The old Citizens Cemetery on E. Sheldon did have a splendid batch of mariposas (as well as paintbrush) before the professional tidiers cleaned things up; I don't know if any survived the civilizers.

All the Prescott mariposas are of the white variety. Go north along SR 89 and the lilies are a buttery yellow.
The brilliant red-orange desert mariposas are a lot more common in the region than most people are aware.

One location where we found them in the past: Tonto Rd. near the intersection with Contreras Rd. which branches off Iron Springs Rd. (That's roughly where the current fire is/was burning). I've seen mariposas along the highway embankment near the Skull Valley cemetery, as well as along the road between Skull Valley and Kirkland. Another location: Kirkland Junction.

But for the most spectacular combination, my vote goes to the Orme Rd. off Hwy. 169. Along this road, in a good year, you will find the white-to-lavender mariposas at the higher elevations giving way to the brilliant oranges on lower slopes. Often the two grow next to each other at the transition zone.

By the way, I am not suggesting that you'll find blossoms at these sites this year -- I haven't checked them out for several years. And it's probably a little late in the season for the oranges, anyhow.

Gurley Place. Place???

Ever hear of Gurley Place? No? Most people haven't, not even long-time residents of the city. But it's there, half a block west of Park Ave., branching off Gurley St. to climb a little bluff. More important, it provides access to all of four houses overlooking Gurley St. plus the parking lot for a former church.

Not only is it a neat little walk, Gurley Place provides one of my favorite middle-of-town wildflower spots. The property between Gurley St. proper and its offspring belongs to the city -- and is pleasantly neglected. This means not only cans and plastic bags -- but also a place for one of the better stands of red gilia that I've found in town.

Even better, last year, after our wet late winter, there was a spectacular showing of wild blue delphinium. What really surprised me was that this was a better display than I've seen out in the field hereabouts.

That was then. This is now. I checked last week, only to find that the many delphinium plants that had sprung up were either totally wilted or already dried up.

Alas.

The gilia appear to be made of sterner stuff -- they are still growing. So far. I'll keep you posted.

The Pleasures of Strolling

If you are as old as I am...and if you couldn't Power Walk if your life depended upon it (even going downhill)...then it's time for a daily stroll. Keep your eyes open for those small surprises that make a city far superior to any gated suburb for walking.

City neighborhoods have usually been around for a while, have aged pleasantly and show their eras' and their residents' individuality. F'rinstance, I walked maybe a half mile out and back today; here are just a few of the items I found:

A classic flamingo pair...

A collectible diesel truck

A face on a tree trunk

A teacup and saucer sitting on a pole

Oh, yes, I also saw a pair of bluebirds up in an Emery oak, eating the berries of the mistletoe that is gradually strangling the life "blood" of the tree. I don't often see bluebirds -- once in awhile near a creek. Try the Park
Ave. crossing of Aspen Creek near Copper Basin Rd.

The first time my daughter, thoroughly adult and raised in the big city, saw a Western bluebird, she was amazed. "I always thought that bluebirds were something you only read about in fairy tales."

A fine walk -- as always.