Welcoming Neighbor

Out for an amble, the first in over a week, I was, on my way back, greeted by a neighbor.

I've always anthropomorphized, it made sense given the behaviors I've seen. And now, with Monica Gagliano having proved that plants can communicate, recognition of tarantulas seems all the more appropriate.

Dr. Gagliano -- 2018 Bioneers Conference

Cottonwood Flora

Today was the 1st (since the accident) I had the energy to amble about.

Naught much exciting. One has to stop periodically to pluck the catclaw from one's legs; the thorns, embedded in the skin, break off from the plant Some people might think of wearing pants, but I eschew such provincial measures.

There're several varieties (of catclaw). These, there're LOTS of each, are laden with pods about an inch long.

 

Then there's a wild honeysuckle. Well, you know, its smell, though faint, is distinctly honeysuckle-esque. So, it COULD be honeysuckle.

And then there was this...covered with fuzzies.

Catclaw...far & wide.

It sure was nice to get up and move again.

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!

                  

Commodes

She thinks it was January of 2010 that she went for chemo.

Near the end of my five-year plan for my B.A. in Geography I took a class in American Studies. It required a paper. Unsure of a thesis, I took a bunch of photos of urinals and commodes from around campus. A couple of days before the paper was due I decided to, instead, draw analogies between Uncle Remus's tar-baby and the existential dilemma.

But out of the first attempt came a still-extant interest in the aesthetics of urinals and commodes. Here're the ones on the Cancer Center's 3rd floor GENERAL WAITING AREA.

WATERLESS
(it jus' slyyyyyds down the hole)

Please note the ethereal light from above. It's no-doubt meant to inspire if you're terminal...and on acid.

Her numbers are good. She's free & clear.  HUUUURRRAAAYYY!!!!!

THEN...

we went to the storage locker to bring home her mom's commode. 

It fit in the FIT.

That cottonwood cheerily waving in the background is a youngster of about 55 years.