Morning Tableau

My beloved coffee cup, the small, white porcelain type used in diners in the fifties, fell onto the rocks and broke. The herring jar is filling in during the interim. You can see a small bit of the Imusa Stove Top Espresso Maker behind the jar.

In the late afternoon I thought to do a small amount of LSD; perhaps I'd be able to discern the source of the angina. It was too small a dose (I'm still experimenting), but I enjoyed a pleasant evening listening to music. There were a few old favorites, Wooden Ships by Jefferson Airplane (I love the creaking at the beginning), but much was Amy Turk, harpist.

Safe Home

Drink To the Dead

Her Fugue in D Minor is extraordinary, as is her Claire de Lune.

 Muse's (not sure if they're "metal") Plug In Baby, and others, are also lovely.




Jim Cooper was the first and only person I've seen on foot in the week I've been here. I was so astonished I accosted him to hear his story. He said he's always enjoyed walking, as did his wife, but her health now keeps her from it.

He said March is the best month for wildflowers in Arizona; from Canmore, just east of Banff, his wife had grown tired of the winters there so they now live on Vancouver Island.

It was fun recalling my drive up the Trunk Road on the east side of the Rockies and resupplying in Canmore. I lucked out when I contacted the Canadian Department of Tourism about driving to Palmer, Alaska in 2010. Hearing of my aesthetic, the fellow told of a dirt road that runs up the east side of the Rockies....the Trunk Road. There were days, I took over a week getting to Canmore, when I saw only one or two other vehicles. But lots of trees (Ugh!). But the QUIET!!!! I can't commend it enough...but it is "The Wilds," so be prepared.

It feels as if my window, which wasn't really dirty to begin with, has been "freshened." There's a clarity that enabled me to notice the little purple flowers (lpfs) that were so profuse yesterday when Jim stopped by, are there but closed up, something I guess they do for the night.

Morning Vignette

The LPFs opened up with the morning sun. It's a purple profusion non-pareil!

Whoopsie-daisy

Yesterday was the first I felt like going for a hike since the accident back in December. I ambled across the way, navigated the mazes of cat-claw and ocotillo forest, across the little stream and up the other side onto the "bench."

From there I followed the (reeking) cowpath a short distance and then, at the behest of a little bird, headed back down toward the creek.

It was a bit rocky. As I stepped around an outcrop my foot caught on something and found myself in that "Uh-oh, this could hurt" moment; it was slow enough I had time to wonder if I was going to be plucking prickly-pear needles for the next few days. As I came to a stop, my good fortune became apparent...at least at far as the cacti were concerned. But what was striking was the quiet...as if everyone, it was only me and the plants, was holding their breath.

Assessment disclosed a hit to the left shin. As I pulled up the pants to check the damage, a shard of annoyance flashed at the sight of the rip in the knee. A GOOD pair of pants! But no blood...and no broken bones...nothing serious. I pulled myself together, assured everyone I was fine, including myself, and continued down to the creek. There I found what will be, in a month or two, a beautiful swimming hole. That is, if it continues to flow.

On the way back I found some of these. I'd met them before near Cochise Stronghold. Their bright-red beans are enticing.

Anybody know what they'll induce...or cure? (I collected a bunch.)







A neighbor. I like orange, but it just doesn't quite have the impact as red.

And then there was this charming couple.

A satisfying day in "the wilds."

Yesteryear's Dream Car - 1986 Tercel

Whilst packing for the hike, I chanced to see it go by. Once at the trailhead, I took photos and admired its timeless lines and aged patina. Fine condition, complete with aerial.

Ambling up the trail I knew the two portly dudes weren't the owners; they'd gone by on foot several hours earlier. But it was interesting to learn they'd parked down at the pavement and frequently made the 11-mile round-trip from there to the towers at the top of the hill. And they were loping along like they'd just started out. So much for stereotyping pot-bellies.

When Kevin came along he said he can't go anywhere...everyone knows it's him. He said a lot of folks laugh, but it gets him there. A friend bought it from the original owner; he gave him $900.00 a few years ago.

Renowned for their longevity and mileage, I allowed as how it had once been my dream car. But I never saw one for sale. Instead, I settled for a series of Datsun B210 hatchbacks. You can see the brown one in the background of my Google profile picture here.