Visitors from The Google

The Google giveth: information , visitors. All it asks in return: information, images. And I am continually fascinated by what brings strangers to Walking Prescott, thanks to The Google. Herewith, a few examples of what is most often called for. I'm starting with pictures, since about two-three months ago, the number of image searches reported by Sitemeter shot way up; I'd guess that currently about 25% of visitors to the blog come as a result of an image search.

Right now, this picture from a post about the Lippizaner performance is the number one draw. Just incidentally, I have no idea what words or phrase were used to pull up this photograph.

Of course, a horse fits among Western themed images, such as these Hollywood weapons (above, below) from the Stembridge Collection which were up for auction when I saw the display. The fantasy pistols above were props on the "Wild Wild West" TV show, BTW.

Also from Hollywood: a stock model false front Western street, one of several featured here.

This photo, called "truck face", is another popular image. It was taken at last summer's antique and classic auto show out at Watson Lake Park.

People continue to be curious about this wee camper, also displayed at that show.

But why these patriotic -- or ironic -- shorts which were among many topical decorations on Memorial Day 2007? This picture, as well as those above, were all selected using the Google Image search. However, the blog also lands on site lists as a result of key word searches.


One that crops up regularly is in reference to Truly Nolen or his father, children and/or brothers. Never an inquiry about his company's little yellow cars with mouse ears.

And then there is my famous post about ant hills. This has turned into a perennial except in coldest winter, when surfers do not have gardening on their minds. Another subject that has proven to be interesting over time -- the Stembridge Collection (top of page). And I'm surprised at the folks showing up to find out about the lion killed earlier this month up near Ashfork. The word has spread, tho there was nothing in our local paper about the incident. I hope that The Google has also referred these people to Prescott Style, which is where I got the original info.

Note: So, if you're curious how I found about about these searches (and other visitors to my site), I subscribe to a service (free, of course) called Sitemeter, which catches all sorts of info about who visits a blog -- everything except for who they actually are -- one's anonymity is protected.

And here are a couple of cool sites. First is the Yavapai Open Space Alliance, promoter of local trails. Nice pictures of the in-city outback. And, in case you're aware that mining activity is booming in Arizona, here is the mining database of all databases.

Aspen in Winter

All is white but the buds, getting ready for spring leafing -- good reason quaking aspen are a favorite landscape plant in northern Arizona. It helps that the trees are native to the higher elevations here and further north. Before writing, I consulted The Google and discovered not only that this tree is more widespread than any other in North America but also that there is a Eurasian quaking aspen.

For the record, two aspen groves grow in the Prescott National forest locally at elevations above 6000 ft.. One is far up Copper Basin Road, along Aspen Creek. The other follows the Hassayampa upstream from the lake south of Mount Union. Unfortunately, aspen is not a climax tree (except on some ranges in Nevada) and is gradually being edged out by taller pines. The only way we will get new aspen groves is for our forest to open up, meaning fire or other destruction of the pines (beetles?)

An aspen grove is a single plant, which is why all the trees leaf or turn color at the same time -- a spectacular performance. Wikipedia explains:

All the aspens typically grow in large colonies derived from a single seedling, and spreading by means of root suckers; new stems in the colony may appear at up to 30–40 m from the parent tree. Each tree only lives for 40–150 years above ground, but the root system of the colony is long-lived, in some cases for many thousands of years, sending up new trunks as the older trunks die off above ground. For this reason it is considered to be an indicator of ancient woodlands. One such colony in Utah, given the nickname of "Pando", is claimed to be 80,000 years old, making it possibly the oldest living colony. Some aspen colonies become very large with time, spreading about a metre per year, eventually covering many hectares. They are able to survive intense forest fires as the roots are below the heat of the fire, with new sprouts growing after the fire is out. However, aspens do not thrive very well in the shade, and it is difficult for aspen seedlings to grow in an already mature aspen stand. Fire indirectly benefits aspen trees, as it allows the saplings to flourish in open sunlight on account of the burned landscape. Lately aspen has increased its popularity in forestry, mostly because of its fast growth rate and ability to regenerate from sprouts, which makes the regeneration of the forest after harvesting much cheaper, as no planting or sowing is required.

The article concludes with a video of quaking aspen doing just that -- quaking. To see the video directly, go here.

Moore's Law* in action

Opening boxes and drawers to get supplies for a knitting project, I came across a brittle, rolled up, yellowed piece of newsprint that had wrapped some sort of goody. When I opened it, there was no goody except for this ad from another world that is now long gone and far away. Just imagine -- for $650 you could buy part of a computer -- just add a couple of 8 inch disc drives, power supply, an enclosure, CRT and you have a total Business System for about 1/3 the cost you might expect to pay. All of 64 K memory (that's kilo -- not mega or giga, guys). Runs at 2.5 MHz (compared to a speed of 400 MHz on yesterday's candy-colored iMac that is the loaner I'm currently using.) And not one word about such niceties as a keyboard to do a little input!

Just for comparison's sake, here is a Dell advert that came with the Courier the other day.What a difference 26 years can make; the ad at the top appeared in the May 1981 Computer Shopper. Of course by that date, the LH had long since built our own home brew computer and logged on to any number of bulletin boards -- precursors to today's slick Internet. In fact, in that same year, Adam Osborne introduced his computer prepackaged with word processor, spreadsheet and (later) database. As I recall, we bought me my first Osborne in 1982. The romance with computers has continued all these years!

*Original statement by Gordon Moore's (of Intel): The complexity for minimum component costs has increased at a rate of roughly a factor of two per year ... Certainly over the short term this rate can be expected to continue, if not to increase. Over the longer term, the rate of increase is a bit more uncertain, although there is no reason to believe it will not remain nearly constant for at least 10 years. The statement was made, believe it or not, in 1965 and commentators continue to speculate how much longer the exponential growth in computing power and capacity will continue.

Brrrr!

Our landmark Thumb Butte doesn't look all that cold. Just because one can't see much of the north side from town. On the other hand, take a look at the hills to the south (below). Not so surprising that our high temp today was the same as in Anchorage. That's Alaska, for heavens' sake, and admittedly a warm day there. But a high of 36 F in Prescott is pretty dang chilly. The snow has remained at higher elevations for a couple of weeks now.

And so it was that when I was making my rounds, I stopped cold (so to speak) at Foolsewoode. For the proprietor had knitted up some leggings for herself. I could do that, I figured, tho I haven't done needlework in, like, 12 or 14 years. More ammo against the chills.

Which opened up, if not a can of worms, a long-neglected closet full of yarns of many colors.

Not to mention a couple of drawers...

As well as two large boxes. My very own brand of being ready for a rainy day. Oh, yes, I discovered a few other treasures that I'll be posting here in the next couple of days. And, of course, I'll post pictures of the leggings-to-be.

Words & Music

For the past couple of years, as Mom's short-term memory has slowly eroded, I've found that she really enjoys having me read poetry from her past. Often she will recite bits and pieces along with me; she is definitely of those generations that were required to memorize all manner of verse and oratory, as well. R.L. Stevenson ...Whittier... Longfellow ... Riley ... Wordsworth ... Burns ... Scott, among others.

When I was younger, hipper and much, much more contemporary in my outlook, I sniffed at those same classic writings (called "the canon" by one patronizing academic a Google search produced.) Now in my wiser or at least more experienced years, I realize just how being able to recite the same words bound old and young together across the generations. Today youngsters exercise their memorization muscle only to grab maybe 10 years worth of pop culture fluff (or agony), with no ties to a past shared with their parents, grandparents and possibly their own older or younger siblings, and certainly not their own children who will follow them. Too bad.

Which brings me to the song books pictured here, found among my LH's large sheet music collection. I recall the Golden Book from junior high school music classes. Checking copyright notices (earliest, 1915), it would appear to have served at least two, if not three generations of school kids with songs from the 1850s to the early 1900s -- again forming a bridge across the years. Hymns, noels, spirituals, patriotic and Civil War songs, rounds, plus sentimental ballads and a handful of marches and college anthems. I wish we'd had the more recent (1935) Silver Book, which included folk songs from around the world in addition to the standards. Collected, even before the Smithsonian got into the folk act back in the late 30s. Of course, I was looking for songs -- or their words -- that Mom might remember.

Here is the back of the third volume above, a product of 1927. Apparently The Cable Company, which made pianos, also operated a publishing division. And, if you were scratching your head about my combination of poetry and song, be aware that this division also published One Hundred and One Famous Poems: all the verse you love the most. Your old favorites: Browning, Wordsworth, Robert Burns, with the best work of the outstanding modern poets: Kipling, Sandburg, Millay and Masters. BTW, all these song books were published in Chicago, which, prior to WWII, boasted a lively book, music and magazine publishing industry.

The Google, of course, is a wondrous source of poetry. Recall a line or two? Move over, Mr. Bartlett. Just pop the words into the search slot and you'll have the complete work faster than Bob's your uncle. Besides, where but on the Internet would you find a list of Top 500 Poems, on which William Ernest Henley's solemn Invictus (#53) is followed immediately by Be Glad Your Nose Is on Your Face, by Jack Prelutsky (#53).

One of the Y's went missing

It was that kind of a day. I waited for a ride that didn't arrive. Tried to order some of those fixed postage boxes from the USPS and had no luck with Uncle's web site. When I called the telephone company to turn off Mom's service, the voice at the other end demanded to know just who I was and I was honest (I should have lied and pretended to be my mother). After I blew up, the voice asked if I had power of attorney. Yes. Well, fax us the document. My machine receives spam faxes quite nicely, thank you -- but it won't send. More hassle -- beg a ride from a neighbor to get to the Goodwin Street Pharmacy, whose fax machine does send. Eight pages worth.

So by 6 p.m., I was ready to relax with a couple of quiet games of Scrabble with a buddy. We played two games and as we were clearing the board for number three, a tile bounced off the table top. Likely into the baseboard radiator. We moved the table, I groveled down on the floor, flashlight in hand. No tile. Maybe we didn't lose one. Checked the Scrabble paperwork & we were lucky -- it told us that there are 100 tiles in a game. Friend counted the remaining tiles. Oops. just 99 of 'em. Maybe it would help to see which letter was missing. First count all those vowels. A, E, I, O and U all present. If only it had been a missing I, we would have cheered. Next, the cheap consonants; all A-OK. Finally, the high-scoring consonants; all there until we got to the final letter. Only one Y, instead of two. We gave up! Time to move the table back. That was when I spied a little brown square in the middle of the kitchen floor. Our missing Y. Whew!

Maybe it's time to give up on the analog game and go on line. No lost tiles, tho there is that computer problem. The SIL, dotter writes, is turning into a ferocious player at Scrabulous. I suspect he way outclasses me these days.

Blog Notes: Prescott Style, in a comment, has much to say about Lowe's engineering. For a picture of late 40s & 50s Prescott, visit The One Acre Wood.

Bach. Stained Glass.

What more could one ask of a Sunday afternoon. As long as I was in Lutheran territory (visiting Mom at Samaritan Village), why not cross the drive to the American Lutheran Church for the organ concert mentioned several times in the Courier. Performing was Paul Jacobs, chair of the organ department at Julliard. The church folk were rightly proud of their new 31-rank, three manual pipe organ. Among the accomplishments of Jacobs: at age 23 to celebrate the 250th anniversary of J.S. Bach, he played the composer's complete organ works in an 18-hour non-stop marathon. Just the right age, I'd say, for this type of extreme accomplishment! My arms and legs are weary just contemplating such a feat!

This excursion gave me an opportunity to view modern church stained glass even as I wallowed in a Bach trio sonata. (Yes, there was other music, but I would not have attended but for J. S.) The window above shines upon a staircase leading to the sanctuary.

In style, it is first cousin to the panels that frame the front entrance of the church.,

However, most striking of all, our sun is celebrated. High above the altar are Art Deco styled rays of the sun, while a brilliant sunburst lights the cross behind the altar. A fine sight to focus the eyes while being enveloped in music.

I'm back -- sorta

Which is to say that my trusty, not-so-reliable iMac is in the hospital. As I said earlier, I am working on a loaner, with neither DVD player nor PhotoShop. Please come up with some friendly, encouraging vibes for the ailing hard drive with all my pictures on it; I could lose a year's worth! Forgive any slight (or major) tilt you might see in my pictures, since I don't have the capability of remedy.

The question, of course, is "what does this picture have to do with any of these travails?" Let's see if I can explain. The pic, of course, is not of a deliberate sculpt, but rather, an abandoned equatorial mount for a telescope. LH built the very solid stand at the back of our house not long after we moved here; he was excited to add the scope and take his first pictures. But, OOPS! All the stars had little squiggly tails. Apparently this ever-so-solid platform had been erected smack dab on what is probably a mini-mini fault, common in the hills hereabouts.

Why would I surmise that? Because you can't land in Arizona, where the earth's skeleton is exposed to view without getting into geology, Big Time. Of course we located a geological map of Yavapai County forthwith, which showed faults all over the hills.

Plus: I used to serve as my mother's travelling companion on summer escape flights to and from Phoenix and her sister's house in Victoria BC. This took me many times over Nevada and desert Oregon, which is an absolutely amazing terrain. Thus I came to read Basin & Range, by John McPhee. All about the Nevada landscape and how it came to be. A must read for any Westerner. Bro, who had been a petroleum geologist in his career days. picked up my copy while he was here visiting & found it both entertaining and educational (his degrees dated from the days just prior to the plate tectonics revolution).

Which led to buying him the complete McPhee treatment of geology across the USA along the 40th parallel. And an extra copy for good measure, namely me. It's called Annals of the Former World. I've been reading it steadily for a couple of days. It's fat. It's fascinating, if bewildering at times; I'm in California -- about finished. That's how I've spent my enforced vacation!

The fatal touch of the Consumer Electronics Show

Howdy, all--This is OmegaMom reporting in for GrannyJ. It seems that this year, as last year, when her computer guru guy headed off to the CES, her computer decided to go belly up. She hopes to be up tomorrow or Saturday with a loaner beast while her CGG figures out what's wrong with her machine.

It may be something in the ether ("I sense a disturbance in the Force!"); it could be that her computer also wants to see what's new and interesting in gadgets and gizmos, and has thus taken a trip in spirit to Las Vegas; or it could be the machiavellian machinations of her computer guru, ensuring that GrannyJ is well aware of just how totally awesome he is. We shall see.

If pigs could fly...

So I was in my office this afternoon, minding my own business and I heard noises up on the roof. Aha, sez I to myself, I'm going to catch that so-and-so this time. With camera, I sneak up the hill and look across the roof. There's the perp -- one of the neighborhood javelina, looking straight at me, advancing toward me. Click. And while the picture is recording, s-l-o-w-l-y, the beast angles off the roof and heads uphill to safer turf. As a result, I got just one (1) picture and I'm happy with it. In case you're wondering about this animal (and many others) being on my roof, remember that my house is built into a hillside.

Hats 'n heels

On a wet, chill, snowy, drizzly day, my thoughts naturally turn to warm things. Like last summer when I had some great shoots with the Niece from Memphis and her daughter. We had a special time at the thrift shops, reafirming the old adage that clothes make the man -- or teen-ager, in this case.
It all started with those racks and racks of yesterday's fancier shoes.

But it was the platform sandals that captured the imagination of teen-ager.

Each pair a trifle higher, culminating in a real retro Tall Gal fashionista.

Teen-ager isn't the only one to play with shoes. Even little ones are fascinated with heels...

...and hats.

Once teen-ager had explored the potential of platform shoes, she also tried on one hat persona...

...and another. Don't they fit well?

Amazing what a hat will do and how it can change the person sitting underneath it -- I stole this pic from dotter's blog because it is one with the others. As I look at it, I think of Marlene Dietrich in The Blue Angel, though she wore a top hat.

Prescott Arts Beat: I wondered why nothing new was showing up at my link to these periodic interviews with local A&E folk. Turns out that Andrew has moved to a new URL, where there are all sorts of new goodies. BTW, he's also up and running with his low-power radio station. He reports:

"This evening we did a test broadcast of music and radio theatre on our frequency, AM 1670. The signal was strong and clean from Goldwater Lake to Godwin Street. Once the signal hit the power lines of downtown Prescott, there was interference - as we had experienced before. Driving around, there were little pockets of clean reception sprinkled around town - appearing like magic on my truck's radio as I drove through rainy neighborhood streets. I laughed outloud - when driving past local blogger Granny J's house, her voice broke though a patch of static - clear as a bell.

"With a little more tweaking, and a new antenna design Mark is cooking up for us, I anticipate getting signals from our first antenna pushed out past Prescott College in the next 30 days."

The misadventures of Lowe's

On the left, the modest manufactured homes of retirees in Prescott Canyon Estates. To the right, the denuded hillsides that surround the new Lowe's. Not visible from SR69: the built-up embankment between the big box's parking lot and the lower reaches of the subdivision.

That's where a wall lining the embankment gave way in three different locations, damaging one home. As you can imagine, a major civic hoo-rah has ensued. Inasmuch as we are enjoying another major Pacific storm, I would expect a few more tiles to drop in the next couple of days. But then the experts are presumably working to solve this problem. What about those ugly scars?

There's Lowe's, at the left. I wonder how long it will take for moisture to work other wonders on these barren hillsides. Our dry countryside is not desert -- but local plants are are a slow growing lot and the scattered junipers that the hired landscapers have planted look mighty sparse and lonely up there.

Yet the Lowe's folk could score a cheap public relations coup simply by spending a several thou on California poppy seed and covering those hillsides with blossoms this spring.

A few intense patches of bear grass here and there, interspersed with major plantings of cliff rose, sun flower and Apache plume would help, as would greater generosity in the number of junipers. Just contrast the landscape junipers with those in the untouched hillside below. Oh -- I guess some scrubby little turbinela oaks would fit in this as well.

But do pass the word to the Lowe's landscapers: plenty of California poppy seeds this year. It would cheer everybody up remarkably.

Commentary on Comments: It's always great when a post inspires readers to drop by with their comments. Especially when the subject is highly local -- and the commentators are old-timers who contribute new insights, as is happening to the notes I made about the "Empties on Miller Valley". Scroll down to read the latest! And, BTW, if you've never made a comment, don't be shy -- I'd love to hear from readers in Aliso Viejo and Tampa and Bradner and Las Vegas and Vienna, as well as anyone or everyone else!

Gifts of winter

Not that winter is my favorite season, mind you. Oh, no -- I'm still in the process of shaking down a new heating system that's challenged when the early early morning temps drop down to the mid and lower 20s, as is predicted for Sunday and beyond.

Nonetheless, winter brings its surprises. such as this full grown critter which dropped onto the window sill from one of the hanging basket plants in my office the other day. I don't know his family, genus, whatever, but he stood still for a rather neat portrait and then disappeared, never to be seen again.

Today, the remains of those big Pacific Coast storms started rolling in, wetting everything from ivy leaves to stones with a high gloss.

Even a pine needle on cement created its own particular glow.

And, as every rockhound knows, the secret to beautiful stones is a surface coating of water. These rocks are all part of my big retaining wall. They're never quite as beautiful as when the rain heightens their color.

BTW, I'm dedicating the pictures of these stones to k, who has to travel miles and miles to gather stones for her remarkable southern Florida garden.