But just down the road a piece lies the town of Prescott, which this year is celebrating it's 150th anniversary. 1864 was when the first streets were laid out and homesites sold, even though it took almost 20 more years before they got around to incorporating.
Still there are many significant historical buildings right in downtown Prescott. You can recognize them by the architecture and the stonework.
Not the least of these 19th Century structures is the Yavapai County Court House.
It's a grand old building that has been undergoing some badly needed renovations in the past year or so.
The Courthouse Plaza, or The Square. surrounds the building on all four sides. While it hosts many arts and crafts festivals throughout the summer months, it is also sacred ground. The flags flying honor the 19 firefighters who died in a wildfire in 2013.
There are monuments to local citizens who served their country during many wars over the years, like this one honoring World War Two veterans and victims.
There was a familiar name among the listings.
That was my father's name. He was Franklin Berry Taylor, known as Frank. It's a version of my name also . . Franklin Bruce Taylor, known as Bruce, though in my senior years when I have to fill out more and more documents who demand my first and last name, I've begun to use Franklin. It just makes life easier.
By the name, that name on the plaque is no relative of ours, at least as far as I know.
Neither is the guitar-maker's name I noticed on the front of a downtown store.
They're headquartered in El Cajon, California. Still . . I just might have to send off for one of their tee shirts. I think I'd go for the antique-looking one.
That just would seem to fit with the theme I've been wandering around in today, wouldn't it?