It doesn't really make sense to me. You would think as the weather gets colder the trees would want all of their leaves to surround them. But instead they remove all of their protection from icy temperatures and snow. For example, you remember that big red maple in our front yard? Here's how it looked this morning.
I suppose the one advantage is it gives us a little easier view out toward the town and the mountains in the distance.
The sycamore with its huge leaves is nearly as equally bereft of foliage.
The ash tree is the last to release it's clutter.
And clutter it is.
In spite of raking up four big bags of leaves only a week ago it looks like another day of yard labor awaits us.
The BRD (Beautiful Rich Daughter), just returned from New Orleans, continued her glamorous, whirlwind trek through the hot spots of the world last night. This time it found her on the streets of downtown Prescott, observing the annual Christmas lighting of the Courthouse Square.
She was joined by her coterie of gal pals and a few thousand other people jamming the streets (and saloons!)
So my blogging day started off with confusion. To explain: I noticed a new bird at the bird bath this morning and originally thought it was a Gila Woodpecker. Later, after consulting a bird book, I think it may have been a Flicker but I'm not sure. I couldn't get a photo because of his nervousness. But I set my camera up on a tripod, actually washed the window inside and out and filmed a video of various finches taking drinks. But when I wrote and posted the blog and went to check on it I found that I had posted the wrong video. So I dumped it and went back and tried loading the correct one. But Blogger informed me that it was too large a file and it wouldn't accept it. So I dumped the whole post. Then I decided to drive into Prescott to take photos of the annual Christmas parade. I noticed as I drove the 8 miles or so between my town and Prescott that the traffic was very heavy. When I got to Prescott I found that there were no parking places anywhere near the center of town where the parade was scheduled. Not only that but hundreds of other cars were circling the downtown area unsuccessfully searching for a space. So after half an hour or so of that futile search I headed for home again. I should have begun with this: the BRD's vacation in New Orleans. She went there this past week for a getaway in one of her favorite cities. Her room in her time-share looked beautiful even if there were a lot of mirrors.
Now, like her mother and step-father, the BRD has a vigorous interest in food and New Orleans is a great town for it.
Grilled oysters at The Corner Oyster House.
Oysters and crab claws at the Oyster House.
Barbecued oysters with blue cheese dressing and a splash of Tabasco.
(Are you getting the idea that she's fond of oysters?)
Andouille sausage, grilled shrimp and cheese grits.
She also enjoyed "Death by Gumbo", in which a quail is boned and served with gumbo in and around it.
But it wasn't all food and drink. (Though it seemed like it to me!)
There was music, too.
In case you didn't know, New Orleans (or more familiarly N'awlins) is famous for music.
She said there are street bands playing on every corner in the city.
And groups playing in a myriad of clubs, like this combo at the Funky Pirate.
She said she walked and walked and took a streetcar tour and a river cruise and . . . she even visited a church!
Well, she took a picture of the Catholic church on Jackson Square.
She didn't say she went inside.
It sounds like she had a great week in the Big Easy.
One she well deserved.
When she got home she found a container of home-made ham-and-beans and some Rice Krispie bars waiting for her, courtesy of her mother, the legendary SWMBO.
Today I'll show you several pictures I took of strange things in the sky over the Central Highlands of Arizona. The first couple may not be "in focus". Blame it on the Catalyst.
This first one is a fuzzy pink cloud blob as sunset was nearing one recent day.
I think it kind of looks like a cotton ball.
If cotton balls were pink.
Or orange.
Oh well, onward.
These are the Black Hills of Arizona, underneath a colorful but stormy looking sky.
And, yes, they really are called the Black Hills, just like the much more famous ones in South Dakota, though I don't think most people around here actually call them that.
More likely Mingus Mountain, which is really kind of a misnomer because that's only one peak in the range, which also includes Windchute Mountain.
And maybe others.
(See what I learned from reading maps?)
At any rate, Mingus is the highest point at a little over 7,800 feet.
My friend, Tim (Timmer), who lives in Colorado, would call that a hill.
But there's a great view of the Verde Valley from the top.
And there's a take-off ramp for daredevils who fly hang gliders down to the valley below.
But back to the pictures.
This next one is even in focus.
Well, it's sort of in focus.
I love this type of sky.
Do you know what it's called?
Everybody from Bing Crosby to Willy Nelson has recorded this song but I've always been partial to the guy who wrote it (with Jack Brooks).
Two solemn young men at the headwaters of the Mississippi River.
I can nearly hear it now.
"Go stand on that wet rock in the middle of that creek.
And don't fall in!"
Ah, yes, got to get that picture for posterity.
Dad was beaming.
Mom was nervous to the point of panic.
The scene is Lake Itasca, in northern Minnesota, generally believed to be the origin of the Mississippi River.
From here it grows and flows 2,340 miles (3,770 kilometers) to the Gulf of Mexico.
Wikipedia states: The channel of the Mississippi as it emerges from the lake was bulldozed in the 1930's by the Civilian Conservation Corps to create a more "pleasant experience" for visitors. The project included the draining of the surrounding swamp, the digging of a new channel, and the installation of a man-made rock rapids. Wading across the rapids in bare feet is a popular recreational activity for summer tourists.
So there were my brother and I enjoying our "pleasant experience".
I haven't said much about our Thanksgiving Day this year but it was wonderful. Very quiet day of feasting with the BRD as our only guest. We started with those goldfish crackers, in tribute to Julia Child. (If you missed that reference, go back and read Wednesday's post.) Some fine wines, courtesy of the BRD. The main entree was a bacon-wrapped, stuffed pork tenderloin. Actually two tenderloins wrapped around the sausage and cornbread and other breads stuffing. Exquisite. Lots of good conversation, dining and family conviviality. I heard from my friend, Baseball Steve, early in the day that he and his lovely wife, Debbie, were preparing to feed and entertain somewhere between 32 and 36 family and friends! I couldn't imagine tackling that but he said the next day that it all went well and there weren't even any arguments or fights all day. Amazing! I was interested in hearing from a number of friends of the variety of dinner choices people had made. From our pork tenderloin to grilled lobsters to grilled steaks to chicken to slow cooker turkey breast to deep fried turkey. Quite a variety and I'm sure everything was tasty. Surprisingly I got no decent pictures of our food from that day. But I did sneak what I consider one of my best pictures ever of our guest.
Her hair has turned white over the years but I think it makes her more beautiful than ever.
And that's why I call her the BRD - the Beautiful Rich Daughter.
