Bloomin' Cactus

Ah kum acrosst this "spesimin" on a wee track in das hinterlands outside Cottonwood, Arizony.

As with landscape pictures, hit's hard tuh capture the magnificence. But as a reminder, it suffices. 

Stardust Books - Cottonwood Arizona

You NEED to Go Here!

Hours: Wednesday through Sunday 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Farmers' Market in the parking lot next door -- Fridays 5pm - 8pm

My camera being what it is, I decided not to bother. The exterior is so plain, and the sign so un-eye-catching you're likely to go forth & back several times b4 realizing. Plenty of parking though. 

The entrance door is metal, similar to those for a bunker; it's tricky too. There's a note above the handle directing to Pull UP. After several attempts I decided it was locked (note hours @ top). But then, it opened. And she said, "It's just a little sticky." in such a forgiving way I suddenly felt sorry for it.

Inside is a nice collection of locally-made things and an equally interesting collection of books. Mostly childrens' and Young Adult, there were several classics and some eclectics.

Oh, and there's a beautifully lit (window with afternoon sunlight) coffee cafe in the back.

           Worth stopping for!

                  

J.H. Waddell, Ruth & Pierre

 

Approaching the house, one is met with this tableau.

John Henry Waddell died in 2019 at age 98. His wife Ruth, also an artist (link to her website), was the model for many of his sculptures and lives on. 

Daniel Pierre, came to the remote location in 1978 to learn about bronze casting and did all of the casting of John Henry's sculptures.

Daniel, a sculptor and print-maker, is currently working in wood and developing a line of furniture. For information regarding his or John Henry's work he can be reached at 928-202-8335.

By Daniel Pierre

The rest of the pieces are by J.H. Waddell.

There's a large berm surrounding what was meant to be a lake. This seated figure looks up at the women along the top.

From atop the berm.

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The John Henry Waddell Relational Sculpture Tour

To Make a Short Story Long

89A curves and winds through Jerome and on up Mingus Mountain.

Once at the top, I turned, as directed, left. After a bit I got out to check the temp. Hit whar downright chilly...and only 8pm, but the REAL problem was the elevation; I start having trouble (breathing) around 6400' and this wuz 7300.

Aventador SVJ

Later, in a concession to plain ole tiredness, hit whar 'round 9pm, ah maid camp in the large turnout on the west side of the Prescott Ntl Forest sign (6300').

Not more'n uh hour later, around 10:00 or so, the Lamborghinis, Lotuses and Porsches (theyz allus capitalized, donchyaknow) started going by. Yew kin tell the brand by their sound which, in most cases is relatively -- relative to a lame-ass Mustang --  quiet. (Real power don't need no freakin' noise!)

Lotus

I read for an hour, and with 'em still whizzing by,  took a sleep aid. 

911 Carrera

Around 6:00 a.m. the commuters started down. They too were surprisingly quiet, but I was so close to the road sleep was impossible.

As I was leaving I discovered a road almost perzackly acrosst the street that went down and into the National Forest. Hit woulda bin a MUCH nicer place, but hit whar impossible tuh see in thuh dark. Next time!

Balloon!

Tony & Alexander - Chase Crew

I was inside having coffee when I heard the sound of a motor. I'd noticed a balloon a little earlier and when I looked out, was surprised to see it coming down nearby. Flying around it was a parasail, the source of the motor sound. In my whitey-tighties and (color-coordinated) white shirt, I took this video.

I got dressed (one has to make concessions) and ambling over to the van, watched as about a dozen passengers filed aboard. When I mentioned the video and blog, the tour guide -- eager to be away -- said they had plenty of video and, quickly shutting the door, drove 'em off.

What a cool way to start a day!

An Increasing Interest...in Dying

This is a link to an article in The New Yorker made available through EXIT International. The article is titled: 

We’ve Had Great Success Extending Life. What About Ending It?

In addition to the article there's a link to Dan Gaffney's blog. In this post, dated May 5, (I'm assuming it's from 2021, but there's no way to know) he touches on common aspects of dying including: coping with a terminal illness, aging, and self-deliverance. The last is my preferred phrase for throwing-in-the-towel and not necessarily his choice.

Gaffney quotes Stephen Jenkinson who was director of a palliative care program in Canada:

“More time, when it finally kicks in, is the rest of a dying person’s life, and the rest of that life will be lived in the never-before-known shadow of the inevitability of their dying. For the first time in their lives they will live knowing that they will die from what afflicts them. More time means more time to live their dying."

“It means more symptoms, more drugs for the symptoms, more drugs for the side effects of the first drugs, more weakness and diminishment and dependence to go along with more time with the kids or grandkids or walks in the park with the dog.

“That’s not all it means, not necessarily, but more time almost always means more dying. No one is born, no one walks in the park or sits looking out the window knowing how to die like that, slowly and visibly and knowingly. Very few here on these shores, where death phobia rules, learn how, or want to.”

I don't wanna get morbid or anything, but now that it appears (after 50 years of stupidity...and what does that tell us about the Powers-That-Be?) that decriminalization of marijuana throughout the U.S. is assured, choosing the time and method of one's death is an issue of increasing importance, especially to the most famous cohort in recorded history: The Baby Boomers!

In this case though, the issue's likely to REALLY benefit our Social Security system...and maybe our taxes! Oh, lordy, wouldn't THAT be something!

But for those of us who inhaled, one of the questions we'll undoubtedly face is: How long will we need to "hold it in" THIS TIME?

Flowers & Jaws, AWWWRK!

That's what parrots say...and maybe ravens.

It's a wonder, donchyaknow, when yuh wander about in a cowed-out wasteland and discover marvels of nature. 

I'd made camp near a railroad trestle I hoped to be able to drive under in order to access an area of Morrison Formation. In the morning I watched as the raven flew out from under and off. 

Ambling to assess whether the arroyo was navigable...and thence the badlands beyond,  I found a beautiful flower and a dining area with the leavings of many meals.

 Amongst the tramplings and dung...

For a hundred yards long the edge of the arroyo...

a few leg-bones, but mostly jaws with teeth intact.

Filling the Gap....between adventures

 

Guitar Boogie and Working Man Blues (live)

Tommy Emmanuel with Billy Strings

Southbound

After a nice week in and around Dinosaur National Monument, I decided to head south to Arizona. I'm not sure how things are gonna play out, but my stamina has waned and my metabolism is now -- due to heart meds -- so slow my "dimensionality" is expanding in spite of my efforts at diet control.

Aman in Grand Junction

Cruising the downtown of Grand Junction, I chanced into The Lonely Toy Store where I met Aman. Raised in a 52-passenger school bus as the son of a Rainbow Family, in his teens he grew tired of traveling throughout the U.S. and Mexico and began hitch-hiking around.

A protege of the World Champion Yo-Yo-er, Aman gave a spectacular demonstration which, if you're lucky enough to be in his neighborhood, is worth the stop. 

The store is at 650 Main St. He's a tattooist and has his "parlor" inside the store. Find him on Facebook as: Apex Professional Body Piercing.

The toy store features an eclectic collection of art and objets d'art and is a comfortable space to just hang out.

Fruita, Colorado

 Dominating the skyline!

A mountain-biking "destination," the image on the other side is similar, but shows a guy on a mountain bike. The gear surrounding both images is indicative of the opportunities available in the area.

Dinosaur National Monument

 

Note bidet to left of wash basins. We may be poor, but no-one can say we're not civilized.

Chicken In the Corn - Vernal, Utah

This was a rough time for Kristen and I. See journal for details.

Sego Alien

 

They were there ahead of me and as I emerged I commented, "A pit toilet! All the amenities!" Colter, at the time dressed in shorts & t-shirt, rejoined with equal facetiousness, "Yeah! You need to take a shit? This is the place!"

He asked if I'd been there before and when learned I was new, began telling of the history...of the Fremonts and another group (I've unfortunately forgotten the name) who pre-dated them by 2,000 years. He also mentioned the government, our government, had recently acknowledged the existence, although no direct contact, of aliens...and not just immigrants.

As I returned from my tour I was astonished to see he'd donned a magnificent body-suit and was pulling on the mask and gloves. Fully encased, he turned and began firing the ray-gun! Suddenly I knew I'd "returned." After four and half months among the hoi-polloi, I was now with two, Darren was his accomplice and videographer, who knew how to have fun!

They took me to the ghost town and showed me the cemetery where there were even a couple of contemporary graves. While there, a young couple, she in loose-fitting bright green harem-pants and a lovely yellow blouse that came to just above her navel, stopped to ask about the location of the petroglyphs. I took them to the spot and as I was preparing to depart a rather loud, '70s model Chevrolet Blazer stopped; it was being driven by a young woman who wanted directions.

Her smile was brilliant and with the sun glinting off her perfect teeth and nose-ring, she allowed as how they'd been off-roading for over 100 miles and wondered if this was the way and how far was it to a town? Riding shotgun was a (lucky) man with a beard who appeared to appreciate my (apparently obvious) appreciation of the moment.   

Although I'd admitted my general avoidance of people to Colter & Darren, I was pleasantly surprised by these three "sets." The wilds of Utah seem to attract a more interesting kind.

Salt Valley Camp

In Arches National Park, not far from the Delicate Arch trailhead.

Nearing Moab

 

It must've been about this time in 1968 or '69 that I took this same photo. I was traveling with an Instamatic 120, just right for a CampTrails pack with a Freighter frame. The pack weighed in at around 60 pds, including my journal and enuf rice for  a week to 10 days at a time. (I weighed in at around 135.) 

There seems to be more traffic.

Justin Johnson

As one of the commenters put it: A legend is born.

Interview (written)

excerpt...

I think we all have magical powers, but controlling that power requires learning how to work with it. It all comes down to how closely you observe the universe, and how much value you assign to the energy that organizes the universe. I firmly believe that humans are capable of much more than what is scientifically or medically proven at this point in time. Much of my music and life is guided, not by my own personal choices of reasoning, but by close observation of the organized “flow” of our surroundings. The meaningful synchronicities in life always seem to point us in the right artistic and career directions. Many of the songs on my last album, “If Walls Could Talk,” came from the act of fleshing out a musical “glimpse” that came from something like the image of a full moon rising over the snow, or a lone bird surveying the fog-shrouded hill as the sun was rising. If I put enough of my heart into observing and valuing those moments, they usually give me deep insight and inspiration in return.