Desert as Yard or Yard as Desert?

Tucson is in the forefront of xeriscaping, a wonderful, if retro by several thousand years, concept.  Shirley, however, has always xeriscaped, and I love its zen calm. Plants around the base of the house add a bit of color, without being gaudy, and more native vegetation blends the property into its desert habitat.

Recently planted, and not native, I take some pride in keeping this bougainvillea thriving in Shirley's absence. (OK, I do see the misplaced modifier, but I'm retired, so what the hell.)

A prickly, and colorful in springtime, welcome to visitors

Barrel...doh.

Prickly pear....beautiful blossom but ouch!

Variety of hedgehog -- the herbivore version

Ocotillio in the spring, before blooming.  Indigenous.  Used for fencing around patios and for animal enclosures.

As with oaks and maples, spring brings green leaves to the ocotillo in Shirley's yard.

Quite the ouchee, if you fall into it.

An agave, perhaps the source of tequila....

Even in the desert, life springs up.  These two little cacti volunteered between the water hose and the house.  I repositioned the hose nozzle for scale.

And yes, green, green, green, even in the desert -- staunch ironwood

Departed -- to the judgment

Departed to the judgment,
A mighty afternoon ;
Great clouds like ushers leaning,
Creation looking on.

The flesh surrendered, cancelled,
The bodiless begun ;
Two worlds, like audiences, disperse
And leave the soul alone.

Emily Dickinson

Tubac was the first European settlement in Arizona, founded in 1752.  Today, it is both a state park and an artists' colony. I began with a visit to a cemetery which both mirrors and reflects the older culture and peoples.

Homage to the University of Arizona, along with a contemporary headstone, and the color of Hispanic culture.

The Virgin, safe from storms, providing her protection and love...

This hand-crafted crucifix is intended to lay horizontal with the earth, rather than rise to the heavens.

From her austere northern room, I wonder what Emily Dickinson would have thought of this brilliant color.

A canopy to protect Jesus who offers solace

Not all is colorful

Nor always marked with other than local stones, placed by non-professional hands....

A small mausoleum

Carefully whitewashed, with a heavy door....

Note the date, and the remnants of the hand-carved crucifix.

Over fourscore years

Marked only by nature

Horses

Even here, a chain link fence encloses...or excludes....

Was it a sad Christmas?

Or a loving celebration of a life that has Departed --

My Tucson Home

I experienced a quiet sense of home-coming when I arrived at Shirley's house.  Many years ago, I'd been nanny to her two young kidlets, the newborn Tanya and 19 month old Juliana.

OK, I couldn't resist that deluding intro.  Shirley has this wonderful collection of masks, and agreed to let me post these photos.  These masks are in no way a reflection of her kidlets, whom I diapered and fed and loved those many years past.  And just for the record, I still do love them, dearly.

Just around the corner from the masks....Every wall is a visual treat.

ARIZONA!!!

I did NOT take these photos while driving.  I stopped...on the interstate....  But there wasn't much traffic.  And I'm closing in on my destination....TUCSON!!!!

Don't think I was driving 75.  I pretty much maxed out at 70.

Even though I was a slowpoke, those 248 miles just rolled by, and soon, enough, I was at the bottom of the state known for "The Big Hole in the Ground." 

 

A Nail, not a golf tee

No, it isn't a weird golf tee.  It's a handmade nail.

Sorry I don't have a better photo, but just think of this as "art."

The New Mexico Farm and Heritage Museum in Las Cruces looked like an interesting place and the day was sufficiently cool that I could incarcerate the canines in the car while I ambled through this indoor/outdoor museum. 

I like living history, perhaps as a residual memory of going to Williamsburg as a kidlet and seeing glassblowers and horse shoers.  This codger was making nails, mostly in a traditional fashion, though with the aid of modern tubing running to his fire pit.

Here he's cutting off a piece of hot metal, the length of the four-sided nail he'll be crafting.

Nail head.

Finished product.

 

 

I've given much thought to this simple nail, which took him about 5 minutes to make, though part of that time was talking with me and holding up his work for me to photograph.  I go to a big box store where I'm forced to buy a bag of 50 nails, or an assortment of 10 types of nails, when all I really want is two.  If I were forced to make my own nails -- or buy them from the person making them -- I would use the carefully, rather than wantonly, as I'm apt to do.  Don't get me wrong.  I don't wish to return to the days of handmade nails, but I do with we could learn the lesson of carefully shepherding our resources a bit better.

The Land of Enchantment

Six weeks since I last posted.  My goodness, I'm way behind.  Partly laziness and partly lack of access to Wifi, forcing me to use what some call a dongle, I call a gizmo, and Verizon calls VZAccess.  Even though I'm completely out of (chronological) order at this point, come with me as I drift through New Mexico, truly the Land of Enchantment. 

I'd prefer to keep left, but will definitely keep an eye out for rattlesnakes.

Abbey almost stepped on a baby rattler in a Virginia campground; I jerked her leash so hard, it's a wonder I didn't decapitate her.  On a birding trip in Arizona a few weeks after I took this photo, someone told me that the bite of baby rattlers is actually worse than that of their more mature mommas and poppas, because the baby doesn't ration its venom.  It just sinks in those fangs and lets loose the juice.  Regardless of whether this is true, I have no plans to play with baby snakes, big snakes, any snakes.   My first stop was Leasburg Dam State Park, near Las Cruces, the office of the Visitor Center pictured below.

No, she isn't hiding just because I walked in; she's resisting my request for a photo.  She did finally acquiesce.  She's actually a campground host, and does some work in the Visitor Center.  Public campgrounds could not exist with the wonderful people who volunteer to live there during the season.  These hosts live in their own RVs, in the campground.  They are a combination of desk clerk, smiling security, sellers of wood....  Usually, they are a married couple, but Matilda is unusual....

Matilda's big smile reflects her inner beauty.   Most campers are white/anglo/caucasian.  People of color are rare in either public or private campgrounds.  Moreover, a single woman as a campground host is unusual, although many single women volunteer as cultural, historical, and scientific interpreters.  When Matilda first came over to my site to check me in, I was surprised to see a person of color.  The next day, I had a question so knocked on the door of her RV, and when she invited me in, I sensed that she and her little canine lived alone...OK, without a man.  As ya'll know, I'm curious, and as we got to talking, she told me a bit of her story.  She and her husband had been camphosts at two different parks, Leasburg in the winter and somewhere cooler in the summer, for many, many years.  As with a surprising number of RVers, their RV was their home.  Several years ago, he died.  Being comfortable in Leasburg, with friends in Las Cruces and family in California, she arranged to stay on year round as campground host.  She was coming to the end of her RV living, though, as a dear friend had given her a double-wide in Las Cruces, and she was going to make the move to town.  She's an amazing woman.

Again, a campground where each site has a covered picnic table, most likely because it can get quite windy, making a canopy impractical.  My photo skills cannot capture the river valley just below the campground.

Trying to stay hidden, as usual.

Leasburg Dam State Park is tucked between I 25 and I 40 in what even a few years ago would have been  classified as the back of beyond.  Today, civilization is encroaching, though comfortably far away.

The not so mighty Rio Grande River

And a vineyard near the campground. 

This camper was in the tent-camping area, with no hookups, therefore cheaper than what I pay for water and electric hookups.  I could do without a water hookup, but I'm spoiled for light, heat (definitely needed even in NM in February), and my computer.   It finally occurred to me that this solar array is the reason this small poptop is in the tent camping area. 

So I walked over, knocked on the door, stepped back to be polite and not pushy.  A youngish man came out, and I asked if I could take a photo of his solar panel for my blog.  He seemed to think that a bit odd, but not in a hostile way.  We then discussed the benefits and limits of his home made solar system, with me not understanding very much of the technical part.  Regardless, I was impressed.

As with many state park visitor centers throughout the country, this one reflects its local heritage.  All in all, Leasburg Dam State Park was a good find.